Return of the Shadow
by Rosie
Summary: Sequel to 'Fear Returns' which you must have read to understand this. Sauron has returned to power and the forces of MiddleEarth must stand up against them, but do they have the strengh or courage to fight? COMPLEATE
1. Default Chapter

**Return of the Shadow**

**Summary:** Sequel to 'Fear Returns' you **MUST** have read it to be able to understand this. 

Post ROTK.  Sauron has returned to power, covering the land in darkness. Gandalf, Sam and Aragorn are his prisoners, betrayed and there company murdered after Aufstand's treachery. The race of elves has been destroyed, Lothlórien and Mirkwood massacred, any left alive were either seriously wounded or mortal. The forces of Rohan and Gondor have been reunited waiting for the command to advance from Aragorn who is now imprisoned and on the other side of the mountains the elves are marching to war…

_I'm so tied of being here_

_Suppressed by all my childish fears_

_And if have to leave_

_I wish that you would just leave_

_Your presence still lingers here_

_And it won't leave me alone_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much time cannot erase._

_Evanescence – My Immortal_

**Chapter 1**

Merry silently watched Pippin count upon his fingers, muttering to himself, his face creased with frowns and his lips pouting lit by the flickering fire light.

"What are you counting, Pip?" Merry asked making Pippin jump, who had obviously did know he was being watched. 

"Oh! I –I was" he muttered before find his voice. "I was just trying to work out how long Strider has been gone. But I can't do it the way Sam taught me because I couldn't find the moon last night" he said watching Merry sit alongside him, absorbing the fire's warmth. 

"Either way he has been gone too long" Pippin finished suppressing a shudder. The cold of the sunless days and moonless nights seemed to sink deep into his bones. 

"Do you think something has happened to him, Merry?" Pippin asked watching Merry's face closely.

Merry shook his head slightly: "I don't know, if something had happened I would have though we would have seen the messenger bird by now"

"What if it had bee captured or killed?" Pippin pressed, his lips quivering.

Again Merry shook his head: "If something has happened to Strider and the messenger bird as you say, then Shadowfax would have come back to raise a warning. He's a smart horse, after he is Gandalf's"

Pippin nodded and fell silent. Their silence was broken only by the cracking of the fire.

Then Merry spoke again: "If Faramir was that concerned then we would have advanced by now."

"But Strider told him not to unless we got the messenger bird!" Pippin wailed.

Merry shrugged his shoulders "I'm sure Faramir is capable of deciding what we should do" he said "I'm sure he would have thought the same thing as you that Strider is taking a long time"

Faramir turned away from the window and began pacing again. Once again a days length had passed, but neither sun nor moon had risen, or any word from his King. A blanket of cold and un–lifting darkness had fallen over the country. Like many other he felt chilled to the very bones and shivered uncontrollably every time he left the comfort and heat of a fireside. The last time he could remember feeling this cold he was faced with the icy, dangerous Nightmares or the winged Nazgúl. Hour by hour he grew more concerned for his King, missing somewhere in the shadows, alone.

 Fear and panic had been rising in the young Steward for several days since darkness had descended over the city. Too long had Aragorn been gone and neither bird nor horse had returned bring any evidence of ill to the King. 

 Shadows had grown and had deepened; rumours had spread far and wide like wild fires left unchecked had reached his ears. More and more people arrived by the day at the city gates seeking protection of their homes had been destroyed or their families killed is battles with the foes of Mordor. 

 For all Aufstand, the elven traitor, sister of another traitor had to do was to extend her hand and claim the Ring for her own and the world would fall.

 He knew the Ring is powerful and highly dangerous, always fighting the find its way into the hands of those who are easily corrupted. He had once gone started to go down that road once, the day he met Frodo and Sam for the first time. He felt the urge to stop the hobbits and refuse their release but at first he did not know why. Like his brother before him he had begun to feel and believe the Ring could be used to aid his country. But now he understood that could never be. Of course it would be used for good intentions but none would come.

 Turning on his heel Faramir returned to his questioning mind – should they advance fearing the King's death, or should they wait? Would and could he go against the King's command?  _"When this bird reaches you, you are to advance immediately, not before"       _

For even now as he pondered forces could be marching towards them or to Rohan where Eówyen stood defending her country. Should they ride out to meet them head on and perhaps stop their advance before they even leave Mordor's Blake Gates? It was a huge risk and with limited men he doubted their success. It would be a massacre. 

 He stopped in mid stride and found Éomer watching him. The tall, blond Rohirrim King approached the Steward and voiced Faramir's thoughts.

"He has been gone for too long" Éomer said. "We should advance now before we are swarmed by the enemy!"

Faramir shook his head: "But too early we would be easy prey"

"Wait too long and there won't be any men to advance with! The shadows have covered the sun and moon, it seems Sauron had stretched forth his hand and reclaimed the Ring"  
"Do speak of such things" Faramir hissed stepping away.

"But surely you have felt it too!" Éomer stepped into Faramir's path. 

The Steward looked into Éomer's eyes and said "If Sauron has indeed taken the Ring for his own, then all is lost"

"Then let us advance! Fight the enemy head on!"

Faramir strengthen his gaze "No, my friend I will not give the order. Give Aragorn another day. He may yet come back or his messenger bird will return"

Éomer snorted: "Do not trust a hope. It was failed me once and will do so again. I fear the King is lost"  

***

Darkness pressed upon his injured, defeated body like a dead weight that he did not have the strength to shift. At first he was unsure if his eyes were open or not, the underground tunnel was silent and still. The flickering torches he could remember were gone, but the stench of smoke and blood still remained. As he lay his senses began to come to life, the smell was overpowering and he had an urge to roll over and vomit on the already wet and slick floor, but he did not have the strength to move nor did he believe he had anything to bring up. 

 His body was numb with pain; dried blood tightened upon his face and stiffened his clothing. With a creak he stretched his gloved hand, returning the circulation to his numb and tingling fingers. His eyes strained to see through the darkness and his ears listened hard for any sound as he clung to the prayer that he was not the only survivor. 

 So much had happened over a short space of time. 

 Dimly he collected the scattered memories as his body hummed with dull pains and refused to move. Only two months ago he guessed they had set out from Rivendell with Elrond's blessings and warnings of growing danger. The One Ring had not been destroyed as believe, Sauron the Deceiver had lead them to believe all was over and peace at last could be found. Eight years passed with happiness and tranquillity and the land had blossomed. But suddenly rumours began to spread and shadows extended from the east, stretching like long finger of the woods of Mirkwood and towards Gondor. Muddled messages reached his ears, and he set out for Rivendell as Lord Elrond had commanded. There he had learnt something had become to the race of elves and his dearest friend was missed, feared dead. 

 Evil in Mordor had flourished un-detected and spread forth suddenly like a plague. First it neighbouring countries, people in Ithilien were driven from their homes by orc armies; next the eyes of the enemy fell upon the elven realm of Mirkwood and did something to the elves that he could not believe.  The elves had been ambushed, and their immortality snatched away like a prisoner's freedom when he is put into chains. Uncalled for and brutally fast. Later he had discovered the same fate had struck the beauty of Lothlórien, and with a heavy heart he witnessed the burial of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood.  Just when he and company could not accept any more grief they discovered their companion Cassione was the bringer of all this death and destruction. She had sold herself to the Dark Lord Sauron and wore unknown to him the One Ring. She wielded it with incredible cruelty and had those closest to her murdered by and orc army she controlled. Her secret had been discovered by the company, she was mad with bloodlust after she had murdered a company member. In her crazed state she cried that no one could touch her, but above her the winged Nazgúl circled and one by one they descended on her. It could have ended there, that very day and moment for the Ring was in the Wraith's grasp, and only with good fortune had they missed and it landed back in the hands of the company. Into Sam's hands.

 Confusion and shock had numbed them for several hours and after much thought they company parted with Aragorn with Merry and Pippin heading to Rohan and onto Gondor. Whilst he, Gandalf, Sam and Legolas turned mortal after Cassione's attack on his home went back to search for aid and survivors. Fortunately the elves of Mirkwood had pulled through and defeated their enemy. Armed with aid that King Thranduil unwilling yet them have they set forth towards Mordor. Even as he lay anger built up inside of him – one of their elven comrades had unknown to them made a pact with the enemy and without care or compassion she turned her back upon them and set the enemy in tides against them to claim the Ring for Sauron – her master.     

 He snapped his eyes towards the sound and carefully moved his injured head towards the direction of the noise.  Something was moving towards him, a sort of scuttling sound of something soft and nimbly passing over the smooth ground. 

Straining his ears he caught the sound again, but this time it was closer. He could here the thing scuttle closer and kick a wooden torch handle, sending it across the still room and he felt it hit his boot. 

 Gimli son of Glóin normally did not fear things in the dark, but this 'thing' sounded far worse then anything he had battled before, though he doubted it would be as terrifying as the Balrog of Moria. Again he heard the creature scuttle and listening harder he heard and sharp crack followed by crunching sounds. Gimli shuddered – the creature was eating a body, bones in all! He just hoped it wasn't one of his loyal comrades. Though they may have fallen in battle he still wished to give them a decent burial if he could. 

  His stubby hands began to grope for his axe: 'If this creature wants to eat me, it will have to kill me first' he thought as he hand found the shaft of his axe and tightened. 

However has his hand tightened its grip upon the axe shaft the head moved and caused a grating sound, winched the dwarf held his breath as he heard the creature pause its eating. His chest was bursting with the effort of holding his breath and his wounds burned with new pains, starved of oxygen. Unable to maintain his concentration he exhaled as quietly as possible ending in a rather embarrassing and now dangerous hiccup. His body tensed as he heard the monster lower its half crewed corpse and turn its attention to Gimli's hiccups which he could not control. By covering his mouth with his hand he could not stifle the sound and to his horror the creature began to move towards him. It moved with slowed steps this time, cautiously taking its time and summing up the size of its prey and its condition. It was delighted to see the dried blood upon its scalp which had trickled down his hairline and clung to his hairy face. It widened its eyes to the sight before it, why hadn't it investigated further down? Here lying in between the many orcs were delicacies of elves and a dwarf. Enthralled by the luxury of elven meat and dwarf bones it did not see the small axe in the dwarf's hand.

 As it neared Gimli fought back the desire to shout for as he watched he could make out the outline of the creature that pressed nearer towards him. Sam and Frodo's story was true – here lived a giant spider by the name of Shelob!    

 She crawled closer, her pincers clicking softly in anticipation of devouring such a morsel, but as she crept closer she became more cautious – her prey was making noises. It was still alive. Her timeless imprisonment under Sauron the Cruel had been disburdened and now thrilled with very fresh meals. This dwarf could not put up much of fight, she thought, watching it stifle another hiccup disturbing the wound upon his head and fresh blood trickled on his scalp. 

 Her excitement had reached a climax and with a huge leap she pounced upon Gimli and with a flash the dwarf raised his axe. Squealing in pain Shelob recoiled, her underbelly sliced. Turning her great body around to face her enemy she saw the dwarf had more strength in him then she first thought. He was standing and gripped two small axes in his rough hands, his face twisted and he growled. He was determined to live and she was determined to have her way. Never again after the confusing battle with a halfling would she let a free meal escape. Surely one dwarf could not defeat her? No other seasoned warrior had ever hurt her, apart from the halfling who was enraged with anger no living thing could match. Yet this lonely dwarf had drawn blood upon her – many there was some sort of magic at work, between halflings and dwarves. Extended to her full height to stand tall over the bearded dwarf she charged again, her mouth open wide, spitting forth poison and death. Yet neither seemed to faze the dwarf who stood his ground; twisting the blades over his hands idly as if bored by her. 

 When all the grace of his wounded body he ducked under her clicking pincers as she launched upon him and struck once again at her underside. Shelob screeched and recoiled away using the darkness to cover her retreat whilst she devised another plan. 

Gimli watched her go and decided not to follow. This was her territory and she knew every corner of it, to follow her would likely lead to his death. Yet he knew staying the tunnel would also bring the same thing. 

 He needed to escape, he needed to leave Mordor, he needed to raise the alarm that ill had become to his party and the Ring of Power had been returned to its master. But who would he turn to? His own kin would not care for the world outside their cave and mines and the elves were few and scattered. It would be men he would tell. He would return to Gondor, alone and facing the darkest, deepest fears he would ever know. He shuddered and spun upon his heel. He had to leave now.

With a heavy heart he turning his back upon his dead companions to leave, but stopped his heart thumping. He had heard something, something moving and he was sure it was not the giant spider. The desire to do a gruesome, sad, yet necessary task came upon him – check the fallen elves to see if any were alive.

With great care Gimli shuffled his feet along, careful not to make much noise or to touch anything that felt like a body until he could reach it clearly. The battle played once again in his mind and one by one he saw them fall and doubted that were still alive. The only persons he did not see fall were Legolas, Sam or Gandalf. Though he thought surely Aufstand would take Gandalf and Sam prisoners and take them to Sauron to exchange the Ring and have whatever evil and torturous plans concocted upon them. They would be no need to keep Legolas alive. Gimli's eyes wet damp with unshed tears as he fingered the long soft elven hair of a comrade. Bitterness broke upon his small form as he closed the vacant eyelids of another. So much death and destruction, such beauty slain for power and greed. He felt as if a great part of him had died with them, the once burning flame of love and respect for the elves had been extinguished along with their race. Betrayed, sold, and murdered. 

 Gimli wept openly, he felt helpless and very lonely in the dark, hostile land of Mordor trapped in the tunnel of Minas Morgul. Even if he did escape Mordor – what then? Race to Gondor and join the men to fight? The men would suffer the same fate, their race would be terminated, and after it would follow dwarves and hobbits and the world would be overrun with darkness and the iron fist of orcs lead by Sauron and his elven counterpart.       ****

 Wiping away his tears Gimli stood and bowed his head muttering a farewell in an ancient dwarf tongue before he turned away, a ungraceful hiccup escaping his lips.

Then someone called his name weakly.

***

 The bliss of unconsciousness had finally slipped away waking him into a world of darkness and pain, the ground about him slick with blood and immortality taken water. Dimly he heard a choking noise, a whimper and a giant sniff followed by foreign words in a deep yet heavy tone. The footsteps gave it away and with a great amount of effort he called out his friends name hoping and praying he would have heard his last, desperate plea.    

 He heard Gimli stop in his tracks and the soft scratching sound of his mail against his over tunic as he turned his footsteps louder and closer then before.

Again he cried out his name but found himself only whispering – oh his throat and mouth was dry and sore like blistered feet on a long journey. But he could let his only hope walk away and as loud as he could he called out again: "Gimli"

***

With renewed hope Gimli turned, his eyes hunting through the dark, hunting for the one who had called his name. Again he heard it, but quieter as if the caller was fading. He increased his pace as he hurried back, and dropped to his knees groping blindly in the darkness of the living being he sought. Blood and water soaked his breeches quickly and they clung to his knees like a soggy dead weight. 

The voice sounded again, sounding desperate and frightened but closer. 

 Un-ceremonially Gimli crawled on all fours over the bodies of orcs and there discarded blades pricked his skin of his hands and knees. The blood was still warm beneath his fingers, fighting the desire to be sick Gimli continued onwards now fearing the lengthen silence meant his accompany had giving up. 

"Are you still there?" he called, "Talk to me!"

Nothing answered him apart from silence and shadows.

"Ruzlina? Henduil? Legolas? Anyone?" he called his voice sounded lost in the great cavern.

"Please answer me!" he called louder fearing he was once again alone. Nothing answered him and he stopped feeling defeated and exhausted. Tears threatened to spill again as his heart felt crushed with disappointment. 

***

  "Please answer me!"

 He wished he could but his voice failed to work, his mouth opened but no sound came forth. He did not have the strength to sit up and wave through the darkness. Gimli was only a short distance away, yet to him it felt like miles. He felt as if he was in a different world to his friend, separated by race and pain. Hopelessness began to claw its way into his heart as Gimli picked himself up and began to shuffle away. He opened his mouth to shout but once again no sound came forth. If only he had the strength to move! He was determined even this close to death not to allow Gimli to walk away and leave him alone in the prison of darkness to die. He wished to see the outside world and walk amongst the green trees and flowers again; he had his fill of containment and imprisonment. He wanted to be free even if that meant causing great harm to himself to stop the dwarf from walking away.

 Making as much noise as possible he gathered the strength and physic himself for the pain he was about to endure to gain any hope for his freedom. Rolling over onto his right shoulder then onto his front he grinded his teeth, lifted his head and banged the orc shield still held in his left hand upon the earth floor.__

_Bang, bang, bang!_

***

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Gimli spun the banging sound rebounded off the walls and ceiling echoing away into the distance. His once low and heavy heart soared with new energy and hope. He broke into a run despite his wounded body protesting against it. His euphoria was driving him, he had feared the living companion to be dead, yet he had gathered the strength to strike out again and embrace the chance of life and freedom. 

 He skidded to a halt and slid upon his knees next to the banging sound and silenced it with his hands. The orc shield came away and with a sigh of relief he gripped the hand of the distressed elf and was unable to stop the tears sliding down his cheeks.

 The hand was still warm and beneath the pale skin his could feel a pulse which he felt increase as he held it, the survivor glade his efforts had worked. 

 Shifting his position Gimli rolled the elf onto his back and helped him seat but was stopped when he embraced him, tears also upon his cheeks. 

In a croaky voice he said: "Thank Valar!"

And Gimli hugged him back, his dear elven friend had not been taken captured or killed, he was alive. Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil still lived.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

Gimli's grip fell away from his friend and his tears began to dry. 

"What happened after I fell?" he asked after some length.

Licking his dry lips Legolas answered as best as he could: "After you fell Gandalf knew there was no way we could defend ourselves. He used his staff and spells, the orcs fell back afraid." He said, "At first I thought I was imagining it but I wasn't. They were vanishing! I saw Aufstand break her gaze away and load her bow. I tried to call to Gandalf but I was too late. She struck him upon the arm and he dropped his staff. I went to support him but…" he paused "she shot me and I fell" he frowned slightly rubbing his neck. And for the first time Gimli saw he was wearing a high collar tunic, beneath it his neck was red and bloody but not severely hurt. When Legolas rubbed it Gimli saw a flash – he had chain mail sown onto his high collar!

"I don't know what happened to Sam or Gandalf" Legolas continued slightly confused, "I only woke up when something brushed past me"  
 "That would be Shelob" Gimli said darkly.

"Shelob? The spider Sam and Frodo fought? I thought they had killed her"

Gimli shook his head: "She certainly didn't act as if she was dead. She's hiding somewhere at this moment. I think I scared her" he grinned.

"All the same we need to be careful. She may return at anytime, the spiders in Mirkwood use the attack of surprise very well and from what I remember Sam telling me she sounds like she is a spider from the forest."

"But what do we do now?" Gimli asked.

Legolas did not answer at first. Then he said: "We must see to ourselves, treat these hurts and eat something to regain some strength. But I can see little here, we should find a way out and more light."

Gimli agreed, like Legolas he did not wish to speed much more time in the underground tunnel where so many of his new friends met their deaths.

 Before they turned away Legolas insisted they searched for their luggage, especially for herbs and food supplies. Gimli grumbled a little searching blindly in hostile land was not his preferred action. He saw Legolas's silhouette bend down to pick something up and attach it round his waist.

The dwarf frowned: "What are you doing?" he asked watching Legolas pull some undamaged arrows from an orc.

"Surely Gimli you understand the importance of arming ones self"

Of course he knew, perhaps the darkness was playing tricks on him.

"What's that then?" he asked pointing to the sword Legolas wore round his waist. 

His eyes fell down upon the blade and replied sadly: "It was Ruzlina's".

"Oh, I see" Gimli hoisted his pack higher up into his back, blushing slightly. "I can not believe Aufstand would do such a thing" he said.

Legolas turned to him: "I do" he said and Gimli looked at him sternly. "She is Cassione's sister"

"Sister!" Gimli snorted angrily. "Yet you chose her to come along!"

"Please understand Gimli!" Legolas said becoming angry in turn, "Not every choice was my own. She wanted to go, we needed everyone we could."  
"But why her? Why didn't you just tell her 'no'?" Gimli couldn't let go.

"How was I supposed to know she would do this?"

"Treachery runs in the family"

"Does that mean you will be any disappearing, master dwarf?" Legolas rounded on him.

Gimli shook his head and said loudly: "Now look here, Master elf. My father did not disappear, he did not betray you in any way – it was your father's impolite and inhuman treatment –"

"Don't you dare insult my father!" Legolas roared dropping his pack and drawing the sword at his side.

Gimli mirrored him, dumped his back and drew his axe in one swift movement.

"Elves were always the weaker ones, no wonder the Alliances between Elves and Dwarves broke as did the Alliance between Elves and Men" Gimli sneered, "Treacherous creatures"

"We are not greedy like the race of Dwarves. We aid those in need unlike your own kin, who'd rather let the world outside fall as long as they can mine" Legolas stepped closer, his eyes blazing in the darkness, "You wouldn't even notice if war marched upon you land until the world came crashing down around your ears!"

"I'd rather mine then arse around with tress and flowers, prancing about like fairies!"

"No, you would rather spend your existence underground away from sunlight and life"

"Life? More like Elf-magic!" Gimli spat.

That was the final draw. Like an arrow from a bow Legolas leapt forward with the sword drawn and his mouth stringing curses.

 However he never did cause harm to the dwarf something else came between them. Something large and hairy.

 Shelob.

With a spindly leg she kicked Gimli into the darkness and with another knocked Legolas to the ground.

The spell was broken.

Gimli groaned and picked himself up off the ground, his mind reeling. What just happened? Why was his axe drawn? And what was he doing over here? The last thing he could remember was talking to Legolas about Aufstand treachery and…what was that? 

 He snapped his head around and shouted – the huge spider of Shelob had returned! She was thrusting her stinger onto the ground time and time again. He heard something cut the air and Shelob screech.

 His heart leapt in his chest – Legolas she was pinning him down!

He ran hard towards them crying loudly into the dark, stinking air.

The spider glanced at him quickly then kicked out at him before he came too close. Again he found himself spinning across the earth floor upon his back into the shadows.

 Again Legolas cut the air with the sword and Gimli rose to his feet to fight with his friend. He could see the blond figure dance in between her great legs, the acquired sword flashing. Obviously he had regained his wits after her initial attack. He heard the spider shriek and wither back a step before dropping her weight down, her stinger striking empty soil.

 Gimli ran towards then and swung his axe as he went. As before Shelob kicked out again but caught the metal axe head as the dwarf swung.

 Her screech made Gimli cringe and he could see Legolas cover his ears. Though Cassione had made him mortal his senses where still sharp. The noise must be painfully deafening in his ears. Black blood stained the floor as Shelob recoiled her leg shrieking in agony.

 Instantly Legolas and Gimli took the opportunity to strike once her screeching had eased. Gimli swung his axe halving another leg whilst Legolas nimbly leapt upon her back. Sheathed the sword and began stabbing with his twin blades.

 Confused and in agony Shelob turned and lurched wildly to dislodge her attacker upon her back and crush the one around her feet. 

 But Legolas held on, jamming his blades into her flesh, after all after riding a Mûmakil a spider wouldn't be that hard. Beneath him Gimli dodged and swung his axe cutting legs and her underbelly. She became in raged and scaled the nearest wall heading towards the cave ceiling attempting to dislodge her attacker from above.

 Quickly before she climbed too high Legolas slide off and landed next to Gimli's side. They exchanged a quick glance between each other before finding themselves parted by a great force and shedding more blood.

***

She had heard raised voices within her nest. She was still very angry with the dwarf – how dare he harm her! Her stomach growled, oh she was so hungry! No orcs or food travelled to her off late. Her mouth watered with the prospect of eating the fallen elves she had seen early. But that dwarf, he had separated her from them. He shall be punished for it.

 Giving her wounds a final lick she scuttled from her nest and back into the tunnel where her next meal awaited.

 This was too good! The dwarf was having a heated row with an elf and neither had noticed her. An elf not being aware of her… interesting obviously this elf was more wounded then he looked. This was too good to be true – an easy meal just as long as you get it right…

 She dropped down and kicked the dwarf away, her stinger aimed for the elf. Curse him! He kept moving! The advantage of surprise had been lost and now she must fight for her meal.

 Again she kicked the dwarf away and concentrated her blows and the elf that kept moving and dodging her attacks. Anger was begging to show. A lapse in concentration, she should have looked harder at the dwarf who had come back for more. She should have seen the axe in his hand.

 It had cost her a foot!

 Oh the pain! The agonising, excruciating pain! Curse them, curse the elf and dwarf! Death to them both!

 Her rage grew as she became aware of the attacker upon her back and the other still on the ground, lurching and stomping her feet she realised her match was meet. In a final attempt to free herself she scaled the walls headed towards the ceiling and into the darkness. 

 The attacker on her back fell away and below she saw them stand together, they guard down as they smiled of being reunited.

Now!

She dropped down upon them, pinning them both to the ground. 

Which one first? That one. With a thrust of her sting the dwarf fell limp, now with a little careful manoeuvring the elf…

***

Her attack was so swift, so powerful and so unexpected they didn't have time to react. They couldn't even lift a blade or run.

 Her weight was tremendous she pinned them down and now amount of struggling could free them. With a slight shift in her weight Gimli felt the bite of her stinger in his side through his mail he felt coldness and blackness overcome his body and mind. Defeated at last.

 Unaware to Gimli's fall Legolas under Shelob's weight wrestled with her bulk to twist his wrists and strike with his blades. She shifted her weight to reposition her stinger – that was all he needed.

 With all his might he stabbed both his blades into her flesh so hard that his hands broke through her hairy underbelly also.

 Warm blood splashed him, but he gritted his teeth and pushed the blades deeper.

 Screeching loudly she pulled away, but Legolas came with her. He looked over his shoulder and saw Gimli still lying upon the ground he shouted to him: "Gimli, get up! Help me!" but his calls fell up deaf ears.

 She shook herself hard and banged herself upon floor and walls trying to dislodged him, but he hung on, his blades not slipping. Anchoring his feet onto her body he forced the blades even deeper, drenching himself in blood.

 The hammering was harder and fleecier and Legolas knew she was close to death now… just a bit further.

 Pushing harder his elbows vanished inside and she froze suddenly, screeching louder then even. The sound was amplified by the walls and ceiling. Legolas felt his mind dimming, his sense shut down… he was about to pass out.

 But then the note changed and died, his sense returned and his vision cleared. 

Her legs crumpled and her huge body began to fall. As soon as he could Legolas stood and bore her weight to stop her from crushing him. With a great effort he pushed again and her body fell sideways and still upon the ground. Using his entire weight he pulled his arms free through the ugly wound he had created, slick with black blood they came free quite easily and thankfully the two blades were still intact.

 As soon as he was free Legolas turned upon his heels and ran. His world was spinning, his knees threatened to crumple beneath him and his body ached. He felt tired, but his deep set friendship for Gimli drove him to run and skid to a halt beside.

 Wiping his bloody hands upon his clothing he gently touched Gimli's shoulder and withdrew. Guilt was eating him up inside – they had argued, the terror of this place had set them against each other. He would never forgive himself if Gimli died, he never said how he actually enjoyed his company or his humorous stories. In the years they had know each other he had never actually commented him on his fighting skills, despite the dwarf saving his life once or twice.

 Shutting away his fears he gripped Gimli by the shoulders and shook him slightly calling his name. The dwarf did not respond. Leaning closer he studied his chest watching for it to move whilst he cupped Gimli's hand searching for a pulse.  

 The world seemed to pause while he waited, hoping and praying he was not alone in the tunnel which had become a tomb for his company.

***

The hours of punishment and imprisonment slipped away in irregular patterns like his consciousness. The pain had dulled as his body began to accept it, despite his scotched flesh he shivered violently, trapped in the dungeons of Barad-dûr in a world of pain and darkness. 

 His cell was damp and old, to any thief or escape artist it would be an easy cell to break free from. But in here it did not matter how strong the prisons were, for the prisoners were encaged in more then just a cell. They were stranded in the most evil land on the Earth, so even if they were able to break free they would soon meet their end outside. Worse though then any wall or enemy armed to the teeth and far stronger then any chain was Sauron's hold on his prisoners. They had no energy or intentions to escapee for they were prisoners of their own minds. Sauron had the ability to extract secrets and plan from any mind; he could break you as easily as a brittle bone. 

Snap.

As sharp and pronounced as that. It was one of the most feared thing about him, his desire for power and control probably surpassed that of Morgoth, his master many ages ago. 

 Already with aid of an ally the race of elves was broken, their forest burnt brightly lightening the sky. He was gathering more forces to him and soon, very soon he will attack Gondor, still weakened by his attack on them eight years ago. Already Sauron had an advantage – he had the Ring again and Gondor's King. 

Sam sat up suddenly breathing hard, beads of sweat formed on his brow and his heart hammering in his chest. Wiping the sweat away and calming his breath he blinked away the nightmare he had seen. Fire, spreading from the east over plains, forests and mountains burning everything in its path. Familiar sights began to fall: the once sun soaked Rivendell smouldered, the flames licked the village of Bree, he saw Butterbur leading Bill the pony away from the burning inn. Next the flames flickered across land and trees finally reaching the peaceful and green of the Shire. He saw homeless, injured men women and children moving together in a mass in chains being lead towards the shore and being lead on slave ships. The once gleaming White Towers of Minas Tirith were black and broken, the inner walls splattered with blood.  The people wept and howled questioning of the where about of the King. He was their only hope and he had not come, like Sam he was trapped and imprisoned in Mordor as was Gandalf, returned from the West. 

 Exhausted Sam slumped against the damp wall of his cell, staring into the darkness and wept silently. The dream had been so real he was not sure if it had been or not. Had the world fallen whilst he was confined here?  Was all hope lost? 

No one knew they where here, and the ones who did where in no position to give aid. Thranduil and the scattered remains of the Mirkwood elves were in no state to help, many of their numbers mortal and weak with no motivation or passion for life now. Elrond – miles away in Rivendell with a small number of elves that had chose to remain behind. They would never arrive here in time and what use could they make the numbers here are too great to count, and war, he was sure would be marching their way soon as they were the only remaining elves yet to be harmed. The forces of Lothlórien had been massacred. The only slim chance was the men of Rohan and Gondor, but they had played heavily in the last war against Sauron and paid dearly for it in lives. They would be no match against Mordor, and like the elves of Rivendell Sam was sure war would soon come marching to them. No eagles or magical creatures would come to their aid, for Gandalf was imprisoned and no life would wonder into Mordor freely. 

There was no hope!

***

The snows on Caradhras had melted due to the shadow of Mordor; they had swollen the Rivers making their journey down the river faster and smoother. Elrond had sent out messengers towards Mirkwood and to Rohan. With a heavy heart after feeling the lost life in the woods of Lothlórien he muttered a prayer and rowed further down stream, his forces behind him. 

 The ground trembled and cried to him and in the distance the fire of Mount Doom had exploded. It could only mean one thing – the Ring had been returned to its master. Aufstand, like Cassione her sister had betrayed the company probably to their deaths. They had passed out of his sight, but he would still fight for them and all the other free people of Middle-Earth. There was no point waiting for war to come to them, they might was well stir the nest and cause trouble to show they were not afraid. Maybe just maybe they would be able to nip Sauron's attacks in the bud before he extended his arm to Gondor or Rohan or to Rivendell and beyond. Already many of his kin had fallen, but he still wished to stand tall and be counted. He would not lie down and die, waiting for the final blow – he would fight to the very end and die like the warrior that he is.

 The elves are coming.

***

There! 

 Legolas gripped Gimli's hand tighter, the pulse was weak and his chest hardly moved but he was alive! They needed to leave this deadly tomb, wounds needed to be tended to and plans drawn out. There was little hope of escaping Mordor now; the enemy would be more powerful then ever before. As much as he longed to see sunlight again and feel fresh air upon his face his love for his friend prevented him from fleeing. Shouldering his pack and Gimli's too Legolas swooped down and lifted his comrade into his arms and padded silently through the darkness.  

**Reviewer responses**

**Lindiniel**: *Grins* don't worry I have a semi planned 'happy' ending! Ambiguous, eh? Sorry about that, but I wanted to have suspense and mystery, but I guess it didn't work very well!  Hope you find the rest of the story clearer to understand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this took so long to update, but I was having problems writing this and the next chapter. Then I was so wrapped up in other things (I am planning and writing at least another two stories as well as this one, all at the same time!) so this chapter sat around on my hard drive for a while before I realized I had not posted it!**

**Silly Billy.**

**Anyway here it is, and I am sorry if I left you on tender hooks – I didn't meant to!**

**Chapter 3**

Éomer stood in the doorway watching Faramir's pale face watching the Eastern horizon. The time he had put aside hoping, praying Aragorn would return had passed with no word or show of either horse nor bird. He knew time was against them and no matter how much he wished to ignore it he knew some ill had become to his King, and his deepest fears had come true. 

"What now, Faramir?" Éomer asked.

 Faramir did not turn to the Rohirrim King but continued to stare at the horizon which flickered with red flame.

"What would you wish me to do?" Éomer asked again..

 "Even if we do go to fight in the East who will stay behind and defend our lands if we were to fail?" Faramir asked with some length. 

"But we will not fail if we act now" Éomer reassured, stepping closer.

The Steward shook his head: "No, Éomer. You have said it yourself Sauron has regained the Ring, and no amount of strength of arms can stop him. There is no hope!"

"We should at least try!"

"No, my friend it would be a massacre if we leave here"

"Yet you'd rather stay here and let the enemy come to you? Have the walls of this city breeched and the people slaughtered. Then when we are dead the enemy will go from village to village killing at will and into Rohan." Éomer cried. "You would rather sit here and wait for the end to come rather then push forwards in a bid to save the King?"

"The enemy would not keep him alive" Faramir said sadly. "I will not go against his orders"

"But if ill has become to him, then you are in charge"

"I will not give the order! I will not send my people to be killed" Faramir cried hotly.

"If you will do nothing, then I will act, alone or with accompanies"  
 "Don't be a fool!" Faramir hissed, "You will not come back alive. Every man and strong lad will be needed to defend should the enemy come here." 

 "But if we go now then we may stop them from advancing" Éomer continued to press.

"No," Faramir said firmly "I will not give the order to advance nor will I allow a friend to ride to his death"

Éomer opened his mouth to argue but paused: "Then what will you do?" he asked realising what the Steward had said.

***

Outside the Citadel of Minas Tirith the sapling of the White Tree stood guarded as normal, but also protected whilst gazing down onto the plains below stood the halflings Merry and Pippin dressed accordingly. 

 Pippin shifted his gaze from the plains into the East over the ruined city of Osgiliath and towards the mountains on the horizon. He shuddered remembering clearly the awesome number that had once gathered below, a sea of black pitted with battering rams and towers. Now the plains stood silent and empty but the tension in the air that was there before he could feel once again tickle his skin. 

He turned to Merry: "I don't like this Merry" he said "there is something strange in the air, as if something is watching and provoking us"

Merry did not turn to face him, but nodded: "Aye, there is something at work here. It feels as if the enemy is taunting us from a distance. I don't like either"

"I wish Strider or Gandalf was here" Pippin moaned quietly. 

"Me too, Pip, me too"

 The watchmen Menvan stifled a yawn and returned his gaze onto the surroundings quickly checking the beacons had not yet been lit and the river which was clear of vessels and activity. In a bored state he shifted his gaze north and paused. He was sure he had just seen something disappear behind a hill. He gazed harder, fixing his eyes upon the spot where he thought he had seen something, but nothing moved, nothing rose over the hill top. Sighing he turned his gaze once again to the familiar pattern of checking the mountaintops, as much as the city he could see and all four compass points, checking the river again. He paused again, something moved again in the north, rubbing his eyes he stared harder again and there! Something moved, again he squinted as hard as he could and called over another man.

"What do you think that is?" he pointed.

The other man squinted: "I don't know. Should we raise the alarm?"

Menvan did not reply but watched the thing out in the distance, what ever it was it was moving fast across the land in a blur, its shape seemed to change every so often… He gasped suddenly straightened his back: "Call the Steward - a rider approaches, it looks foreign!" 

The other man dashed away.

 It was differently a horse and rider Menvan could see them now, the horse was grey and the rider had large lose clothing and hair which caught the wind with every stride.

 Quickly Faramir and Éomer raced up beside Menvan and the watchmen, they were quickly followed by Merry and Pippin. 

"What's going on?" Merry asked not being able to see over the battlements or in between the men.

"There is a rider approaching" Éomer said, "I cannot make him out"

"It looks like an elf" Faramir said.

"An elf?" Piping cried "Do you think it is Legolas?" 

"I do not know" Éomer replied softly.

He turned to Faramir and they exchanged looks. "What shall we do?" he asked "How do we not know this is Aufstand or another traitor?" he asked Faramir seriously dropping his voice.

"We do not know, we must risk it. He may have news on Elessar." Faramir hissed. "Which direction was he travelled from?" he asked Menvan.

"From the north, sir"

"A Mirkwood elf possibly" Faramir stated.

"A traitor" Éomer hissed.

"Either way we must do what we can for him" Faramir pressed. "Open the gate!" he cried.

 His message passed down the line of men towards the gates and with a groan and creak of wood and chains the gates swung open and the lone grey horse galloped inside the safety of the city. 

 Faramir, Éomer and the hobbits hurried down to meet the elf how quickly leapt down from his horse and bowed his head. 

"My Lords," he said "I bring news from Lord Elrond of Rivendell"

***

The daylight was dazzling in the deeps of the darkness. But it was a blissful sight to behold to one who thought there was no escape. 

With as much stealth as he could muster whilst carrying the dead weight of his unconscious friend and luggage Legolas crept through the entrance of the tunnel and into the overcast light. Quickly he took in his rocky and desolate surrounds and dark ominously looking skies above. The cruel land or Mordor stood cold and eerily quite and enemy free for the moment at least.

 Seizing the moment Legolas lowered Gimli to the ground and took out the pouch of herbs he found in one of the packs and began to prepare them for usage. He dare not start a fire to heat water, instead he softly chewed the herbs in his mouth to moisten them and smeared them onto Gimli's visible wounds created a paste as he went. Each leaf and steam was savoured and used with great care with the lightest of touches. Next he looked to himself and pasted over the deepest and ugliest cuts and wounds he could find and reach he felt his throat and neck in vain for any foreign bodies and wounds but wound nothing. Satisfied he had done all he could he turned to Gimli still cold and limp from the poison and with no way of reviving him Legolas had to sit and wait for him to recover. There was no point leaving to go in any direction at the moment, for which ever way they would go some enemy would find them, or some ill would become to their already ill state. They needed a plan, an idea, structure and hope. Should they go and try and find Sam and Gandalf, or should they go back and find aid? 

Either way the journey would be surrounded in mystery and danger. If they went onwards, they could not grantee they would find Sam or Gandalf alive or even where they were being held. If they went back they would be no way of knowing if some ill had befallen Gondor or Rohan whilst they journeyed from Rivendell. To journey back for aid would take much time and effort, something they did have much of. Even if Sam was still alive Legolas did not know if they had the strength or the time to return and save him and Gandalf. Would the men agree to save them? That was also another question he had thought of. Putting himself in the position of the Men he decided that he would not command men to risk life and death just to save a hobbit and an old man, but they were his close friends…Would they leave him behind if they had a choice?

 Legolas rose to his feet, tucked Gimli and the luggage safely into a shadowy corner and crept away, the sense of curiously had overcome him suddenly and very strongly. Though he had not admitted it, he had never actually gone into Mordor before. Sure he had trodden the path to its Black Gates and to the feet of the mountains but he had never actually been inside. Though he knew there is nothing neither exciting nor beautiful about this land he was inquisitive to see what lay beyond the mountainous terrain on which he stood. Also it would help them greatly if they were to go onwards; the path in front of them would help decide the course they would take. Keeping as low to the ground as possible Legolas crawled to the rocky ridge and peered over. 

 The land that met him was far for beautiful and full of life, it was dark and bear, broken by the occasional flicker of flames from the mountain or fork lightening from the sky. The mountain of Fire filled most of his vision, burning and smoking to his right, but against the natural landscape he saw something clearly man made, something that made him shudder. He could see the tall tower of Barad-dûr not many league away and instantly he noticed the Eye of Sauron which had once stood high above the Tower, always burning and watching was missing. The Lidless Eye of Sauron was gone, the forked support still stood upon the roof like a pair of horns but they supported nothing.  His blood felt cold as he turned away slightly shaky, beneath him the stones felt horridly sharp and he could hear their angry voices. He paused in his tracks and picked one practically jagged stone up and turned it in his hands. The pointed ends and sides nicked his skin, but he did not mind instead he concentrated upon the sensation he was feeling. He could hear the stone's voice, but could not make out the words, it sounded like an ancient tongue, one which he did know. Never before had he felt such thing, the small, dangerous stone had feelings and opinions. Even before he had his immortality taken away he not sensed this before especially in stones. It was tress and plants that he reacted to the most, never rock and stone. He chuckled lightly thinking that the charm and strangeness of the dwarves were rubbing off onto him. He slipped the active stone into his pocket reminding himself that he should show it to Gimli once he was awake to see his reaction. 

 He crawled back to his friend and felt his skin. It was still pale and cold but he was sure his pulse was a little stronger then it was before. Wrapping his cloak around him Legolas leant back against the walls of the entrance of the tunnel and uttered a sigh. He felt exhausted and longed to sleep, but he feared to do so in case the enemy found them, also he feared he may not wake again. His mind returned again to what he had seen over the rock ridge, the Eyeless Tower, empty land and highly talkative stones. What did it all mean? Had Aufstand marched Sam and Gandalf straight into the heart of the Land of Shadows and exchanged the One Ring? Had she killed them and taken the Ring? Was she caught up in between a triangle of love for the Ring and her master?

 Bitterly he kicked several loss stones in a fit of anger and hatred, he stiffened to listen if anything moved, but nothing came. Why didn't he, like Gimli said send Aufstand away? Why did he agree to allow her to come with them? Of course she was a family friend and someone he thought he could trust, but how could he forget she was Cassione's sister? How could he have forgotten? The two even looked the same! Yet they were completely different, Cassione was out going, always looking for trouble and adventure – that was how they ended up trapped and very frightened in Mirkwood thirty years ago, Legolas and Aragorn had not forgiven her for that. And Aufstand… well she was completely different, for a start she was afraid it seemed to make friends, she was terribly shy and private, enjoying her own company over any one else's. Why and how did she change from becoming this lonely figure to a brave and loyal fighter? Loyal? Not the correct word to describe her now.  He racked his brains and began to remember. 

 The day when Aragorn, Cassione and himself were attacked in Mirkwood on New Year's Eve by Nightmares Aufstand became very distressed for her sister and after that she came a little more out her shell, meeting and greeting people, making friends and making herself known. Her popularity grew and Cassione became jealous, they rowed once, he recalled and Cassione left to live in Lothlórien whilst Aufstand remained in Mirkwood serving Thranduil and his family. 

 They must have been closer then many thought for they shared the secret of the Ring and to both deceive and betray the company for the same thing of desire and power. They both served Sauron, the great enemy of the elves, and they broke and betrayed them sentencing them to a worse fate then death. 

 They had made them mortal.

***

"Fyndra look after him well for me, please" Nymane half cried still clutching her small son Pal.

"Do not fear, I will take good care of him, and no matter what happens I will protect him with my life" Fyandra promised placing one hand upon her heart. 

Tearful Nymane nodded: "I know you will" She handed her close friend her most beloved treasure of all into her arms, restraining herself from crying and clinging onto him. 

Slightly distressed Pal stretched out his small arms and began to cry: "Atara*" he sobbed and Nymane comforted him, brushing his tears away on his soft face.

"Uuma elle er. Amin nauva entul rato, amin vest. Beleg ten amin, elle er**"

 The child nodded and Fyndra embraced him tightly as Nymane kissed them both farewell.

 "Pal is safe with Fyandra" Nymane said to her husband and warrior Erbschaft. 

"You don't have to go, you can stay" he took her hands into his own dropping the parchment list he was holding.

"No" she said, "I want to do this, I want to help. I am sorry I stopped you before I knew how much you wanted to go. I know how much the Prince means to you. That is why I want to fight with you, for his sake"

"Mordor is no place for a woman" Erbschaft said gently.

"Woman? Who are you calling women? I am neither weak nor afraid!" she stepped back and drew her sword at her waist. "I am a fighter, I am proud of my race and my family and I will protect them from Sauron at all costs even if that will cost me my life."

Erbschaft smiled and tightly embraced her: "It will not come to that I am sure, but with your permission I wish to fight alongside such a deadly beauty warrior as you"

"Get over" Nymane teased pushing her husband away, "you have a job to do here first"

"Indeed" Erbschaft turned and continued to take the names of each elf that came to him and he inspected their armoury.

 The numbers were surprising him, less the three weeks ago the village of elves that dwell in Mirkwood had lost all hope and faced a fate far worse then death – they had been turned mortal, betrayed by Cassione. The people were lost and confused, hurt beyond all reckoning and nothing it seemed could help them even they discovered the same fate had befallen Legolas, son of the King and after his best efforts aided by Gandalf the White no one seemed moved or were inspired by his words instead they seemed to sink further into disappear. But this new news had shaken them, and from the depths they sprung to life and wanted to fight to save the King's son and the Free People's of Middle-Earth. For ill had befallen him and the company, a great shadow had engulfed the sun and all her beauty, the time had come to fight back and reclaim their former glory.

"Why is my name not already written down?" one voice said and Erbschaft looked up from his list at the face and instantly bowed his head. "Your Majesty!"

"Well come on Erbschaft sign me in! You didn't really expect me to stay behind did you?" Thranduil asked.

Hurriedly Erbschaft wrote the King's name down and briefly looked over his gear. "Welcome aboard!" He said shaking hands with the King in an overjoyed, over enthusiastic sort of way.

"Come now, did you really expect me to ignore the call of my brothers? If Elrond is relying on me, then I must answer" he said slapping Erbschaft heartily upon the back as he walked away. 

 To be honest Erbschaft wouldn't have been surprised is Thranduil did not come forward and did stay behind. He had become closed and bitter since Legolas left, it appeared he had descended into madness caused by Sauron and Cassione, yet here he was roaming through the elves as if nothing had happened. 

 Maybe this was a sign of hope, perhaps not everything was lost like he had first thought when the sun was masked and the ground seemed to quake. Perhaps there was still hope, somewhere.

***

Thranduil turned to the ranks of elves in front of him holding flaming torches aloft and suddenly he remembered the reason behind this and he began to feel incredibility guilty.

If he had been more supportive towards his son when he and his mismatched company came to him for aid, they begged him, yet he ignored them and brushed off Gandalf's words like dirt. Now ill had befallen them and he feared his son was lost along with the company and the Ring of Power. He should have helped them and recalled the connection between Cassione and Aufstand, but like Legolas and others who had seen them together for hundreds of years he missed the connection. But they lived apart without visiting one another he had forgotten they knew each other let alone even related. Had that cost him the life of his son, and possible the freedom of his people? He wasn't about to take that risk, he wanted to correct and error he had made, he wanted to do all he could to help as many as he could. Even though the Free People include Dwarves he still wished to fight, for Legolas proved a friendship between two mismatched races can be achieved after many struggles and strives. 

 His eyes fell upon the face of General Erbschaft and beside him his wife Nymane, if they and many others could put more they just their lives and future on the line, so could he.

"My kinsmen" he called, "shadows have strengthen in the east and has swallowed our beloved sun and stars. Sauron has regained much of his lost power and will extend his hands to take whatever life he wishes. You brothers and sisters, your sons and daughters, your mothers and fathers, many have already suffered at the hand of Sauron, but no more! Let us unite with the forces of Rivendell and beyond, let us rekindle the alliances between Elves and Men, put aside our differences to unite in one cause. For one thing, one more powerful and stronger then any weapon the enemy can produce, more powerful and more desired then any spell a wizard can conjure – freedom! No matter what the enemy may throw at us, no matter what the future holds we will remain true to ourselves and to each other, in an effort and constant battle to regain what is rightly ours, to throw down our enemy and smote his ruins. For all those that have come before us, let them be remembered and revenged. We shall no go quietly into the night, we shall fight!"

The ranks broke into cheers and cries.

"Let us march upon enemy, let us go!" the King cried, leading his people. Leading them to death and glory, to war. 

* = Mother

** = Don't cry little one. I will return soon, I promise. Be strong for me, little one. 

**Reviewer responses**

**Alida****-Fruit**: Thank you for returning from 'Fear Returns' and don't worry for not being there when it kicked off again. As you can see not many people have … L Anyway, thank you as ever for you reviews! I found it rather patchy picking up the pieces of the last one and fitting them together again. I knew towards the end of 'Fear' that I wanted to create a sequel, but this was going to be a challenge as all the other sequels I ever attempted were terrible and I had to abandon them. Now I am slightly older and wiser (hem, hem) I thought I should give a go. Even now I am finding some pieces harder to write then others. I have enjoyed re-writing the characters I had in 'Fear' and when I wrote Erbschaft (his name is actually German for legacy) I suddenly realized I didn't want to send him with the others to their deaths in Mordor, I wanted to save him for something else, something more powerful and wroth fighting and dying for. And ta tar! Elrond comes to the rescue! Love, hate? 

 Oh and well done with 'Fading Hope' – ab fab stuff!

Help! I need to track down a decent Elvish translator and some accuracy on the proper use of Athelas, everything I have tracker down so far was rather useless!

Thank you, 

Rosie  ****


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Within the Citadel Faramir had sat the messenger elf and called council with Éomer, Redd and Medd twin brothers both high ranking officers and the Kings' wife Arwen insisted to hear her fathers message. 

"The Lord of Rivendell requests your aid in battle." The messenger elf recited his given message. "The Ring of Power has been presented to the Dark Lord and all has been restored to him. The fate of the remaining company remains unknown but it is clear ill has befallen to them." He said. "No one race has the power or resources to battle Sauron alone but together we have a stronger chance. His message is so: 'Let the old Alliance between Men and Elves be relit, let us fight alongside one another again. Let us together fight the gathering darkness in the East, let us at last cast away the enemy and join as one.'" he said into the silent room. "Lord Elrond will be sailing here within the next two days to hear you decision." The messenger finished.

"That soon?" Faramir mouthed surprised.

"Thy Elven Lord will march to the Black Gates with or without your aid, his mind is already set" the messenger stated.

Lady Arwen spoke before anyone could prevent her: "I will go with him no matter what you choose"

Gently Faramir placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder: "I beg you to remain behind, my Queen. Your father will not march to Mordor alone, I promise."

Éomer spun sharply to the Steward and Arwen turned a tearful face to him.

"The time has come for us to break the word of the King and to advance united with the elves to conquer the enemy." Faramir said slowly, rising in stature. He faced Éomer and said: "I am sorry I was hard against you my friend, I did not wish to accept the truth. But now I cannot ignore it with the Lord of Rivendell pleading for aid and the shadow in the east has enveloped the sun. This is something that will not go away" he said, "This is something we must fight away!"

***

With great care Aragorn pulled his beaten and torn shirt from his upper arm, the skin beneath was red and blistered. The inflamed skin stung and peeled where it had been scorched. There was little he could do to help himself other then try and keep the wounds as clean as possible using the water his captors would some times bring him in irregular intervals. The water had a slightly muddy tinge and lasted earthy, but it was he would ever receive from his captors, other then an occasional beating in the form of many varieties.

 Alone, in a small dark cell Aragorn did not know the fate of Sam or Gandalf, but knew how they came here. The answer was still walking around the tower with a smug look upon her face. Dimly he shook his head, how could they have over looked the family connection? Surely they could remember Cassione and Aufstand were sisters? The thought of what the pair have done made anger boil up inside of him. First they killed Gollum after all believed the One Ring had been destroyed, but in fact Gollum had taken it from Frodo and some how lived, returning to his cave in the misty mountains. There Cassione and Aufstand found and killed him, and with the Ring hidden in Ithilien they travelled into Mordor and lay down they devotion to Sauron bending to his will, while it seemed he was unaware they had the Ring. Together with the aid of Sauron's growing army they developed away to steal the immortally of elves, leaving them open to decease and sickness. They had massacred the forest of Lothlórien, and locked in his small cell he did not if the same fate had meet Mirkwood or had reached Rivendell yet.

He did not travel to the northern elf stronghold so their fate was still unknown to him, the company parted shortly after Cassione had showed them her true colours and she tried to have them killed, but instead she had met her end when the Nazgúl or Ringwraiths attempted to snatch the Ring from her. 

 The Ring then passed to Sam who with the aid of Gandalf, Gimli and Legolas went to Mirkwood, the path must have been slow for Cassione's damage to the elves had also left Legolas mortal, and everything that made him unique from any other life from was taken from him. 

 In the meantime Merry, Pippin and himself headed south east towards Rohan and Gondor to spread the word of their discovery, and with much fear and angry words the Rohirrim decided they would follow Aragorn and the hobbits to Minas Tirith, and then when the moment was right the forces of the two countries would march forward into Mordor and end this, once and for all.

 That was the plan at least. Then Aragorn heard that Legolas had chosen Aufstand to accompany him with Sam still bearing the Ring, Gandalf and Gimli into Mordor to sneak past the enemy and destroy the Ring in the Mountain of Fire. He fled from the White City to find them, to warn them if he was not too late. No one seemed to truly understand the horror of this new discovery other then Shadowfax, Gandalf's horse who understood the need of haste and he allowed Aragorn to ride him. But on the way there something spooked the great horse and Aragorn was thrown and into unconsciousness. He was sure if here were Gandalf that would not have happened for the horse had far more trust and confidence in the wizard then any one else, with Gandalf Shadowfax would do anything, but alas not for Aragorn.  

 He had exchanged many hands in between him being thrown from his horse to being here, trapped in the Dark Tower of Barad-dûr. The enemy always snarling, and drooling, the air was filled with tension and excitement; they knew what was about to happen or perhaps had already done so. For he had lost his sense of time and day, more so now that the sun has masked and night always covered the sky. 

 Barely conscious and filled with pain he was only just aware of Gandalf's and Sam's prescience when Sauron took back the Ring of Power and turned his might upon them. Gandalf's worst fears had come true, Sauron had taken physical form, making ruling and gaining the Ring much easier. Aragorn had no doubt that his was aided by the pair of elves.

 The cell door creaked open, and Aragorn shifted his weight to sit up straight. He wanted to stand, to show the enemy that he was not weak but he did not have the time or the energy before the door fully opened and the enemy stepped inside. He had expected some orc to enter, but instead it was Aufstand, her brown hair lacked the shimmering beauty it once had. He hid his surprise and stared at her hard, with the utmost loathing.

 She smiled almost innocently and closed the door behind her, her eyes not leaving his face, and nor his leaving hers.

 Only when the stiff iron door was closed and its catch clicked into place did Aufstand speak: "The once small boy I remember now sits before me a man, a King, something I never imagine" she smirked.

Aragorn did not reply but just started at her sternly.

"The once weedy boy is now a 'great' man, I find that rather hard to take in." she continued, "But at this very moment you look more like that little boy I remember then the 'great' man you are suppose to be" she crouched slightly, patronizing him. 

Aragorn did not rise to her taunts; he sat staring hard, remaining calm.

"The company that attempted to pass beneath the mountains certainly needed the strength and power of a 'great' King, such as yourself. After all the reputation elves like Legolas have for being killing machines, they were more then happy to surrender" her eyes bored into his, but still he did not react.

Aufstand pushed harder.

"Only the old man Gandalf put up a fight, the hobbit too, but they were easily overpowered and captured. But the others –" she sighed "– they didn't even try. One look at the enemy waiting for them and they handed over their weapons and accepted punishment for entering our land. Only when we started killing them did they try and put up a fight" she leaned closer still her face inches from Aragorn's. 

Still he did not flinch nor speak.

"One by one we killed them, after torturing them for answers first. They might have been cowardly but they were rather stubborn, but that did not matter we learnt what we wanted. Trying to build up a little army were you? Going to march up and knock on the Black Gates to make everything alright, wanted to make a peace and surrender, just like the others did?" she pulled away suddenly and laughed. "Sauron does not bargain with simple folk like you"    

Aragorn still did not react to her, he knew that no one in the group of elves truly knew what he had been doing in Gondor, of course Gandalf would have a vague idea after it was he how sent him along that road in the first place, but none of them knew for certain. They had discovered that another way. He struggled to suppress a shudder that rippled down his back and across his shoulders. But Aufstand but have noticed as she continued to find a sensitive nerve.

"The men are weak and lost without a leader; they will not come for you. The elves are too broken to pull themselves together or even contemplate fighting. Elrond is alone and powerless without the other Elders, he knows it. You are completely on you own, little King. Not one of the other company lived, I slew them myself and watched them beg for they lives" She shook her head, smiling. "I wish I could hear what Thranduil would have said if he heard his son cry, beg for his life and scream; tears sliding upon his face" her expression changed to disgust swiftly "weak, pathetic creature"  

 His chest was thumping and his fists clenched; quickly he stood and faced her, his teeth bared like a wild animal.

Aufstand was not taken back by his sudden change, instead she smiled again. Then stretched out one fist, and flicked out a thin pale finger and poked a burn upon Aragorn's collar hard.

 Instantly he fell back clutching his stinging skin and Aufstand laughed loudly shutting the door behind her, her laughter carrying down the corridor behind it.

***

Something scrapped on the loose stone and Legolas jerked himself. He'd been asleep! Curse the mortal life he must now live! As quickly as his mortal body would let him Legolas stood and notched an arrow to his bow string, he eyes scanning, looking and listening for movement. Again he heard the noise of boots scarping loose stones, but it wasn't coming from around him, it was coming from just behind him. He spun and loosened the tension on his string. It was only Gimli battling the affects of the poison. Lowering himself down, storing his weapons away Legolas placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulders to keep him as still as he could.

 Through the cloak and Gimli's clothing he could feel the warmth of his body returning, and his body begin to wake, twitching as if attempting to wake from a bad dream. Legolas pitted him, his eyes soft as the sturdy dwarf again shuffled his feet as if he was running from something.    

 The ferocity of his movements increased and Legolas had to push down his entire weight upon his friend to keep him still and to try and muffle the sounds he was making. The dwarf's mouth parted and uttered dry, hoarse whispers and quite mutterings. Maintaining his grip, waiting for the fit of activity to pass Legolas could make out some of the dwarf's mutterings.

"Balin, what happened to you?" he heard him mutter, "Who did this to you? Orcs? No, no that can't be…it's a tomb!" his body shuddered and his mouth moved wordlessly. "What have I done? I have lead my friends into their deaths! A Balrog, I cannot believe it – Gandalf, where – no Gandalf!" he half cried, his body convulsing and twitching violently as his body fought hard to wake him.

"No!" Gimli shouted kicking violently, "Sam, Aragorn, Legolas – where are you? They… them…she…no!" he roared, breathing hard.

 Blinking twice he looked around himself. He was standing, fully awake, he was outside and it hurts were no longer painful. 

Something laughed and he looked down at Legolas how was picking himself off the stony ground, smiling broadly.

"Welcome back, my friend" he said.

Gimli returned the smile and rubbed his side where Shelob had struck him, staring around himself. 

"Where are we?" he asked, frowning, "What happened?"

Legolas jested for him to sit and he began to explain.

"The spider, Shelob stung you with her poisoned Stinger; luckily she did not kill you, but only knocked you out for several hours." He began to explain watching Gimli rifle through his pack. "I carried you; along with all the supplies I could carry and found a way out the cavern. Beyond that ridge –" he pointed "– is our possible path, that is if we chose it" he said, his eyes lingering on the ridge he had pointed to. Gimli too looked up from his pack and stared at the ridge, not sure what they should do next.

"Before us lay a choice of paths, neither are better or likely to be more successful then the other" Legolas said after a lengthy pause. "We could either go back and find aid or go into Mordor to find Sam and Gandalf" 

Gimli turned to his companion, "You have had time to survey the area and I trust your judgement, Legolas. What do you think?"

Legolas blinked and recovered himself quickly. This was a strange twist; Gimli was stepping out of his stubborn shell he had been confined to since he met him. He actually admitted he trusted Legolas judgement! Something you would never hear him say up until now, maybe the narrow escape of death had shaken him slightly.

 "Things have been put into motion, things that cannot be undone nor stopped" Legolas started, hiding his bewilderment at Gimli's change "the Eye of Sauron is missing from the Tower of Barad-dûr, Mount Doom is burning more fiercely then I can remember. Over the last hour the land below is filling with enemies, moving in a mass of shadows and flaming torches. They are restless; I fear they may find us"

Gimli's face was some what paler then before. "We cannot stay here, then?" he asked quietly.

"If we go back and return with aid, we would be risking everything and everybody on hoping that will we find Sam and Gandalf alive and Ring still with them. But look at the sky in the west, Gimli. Where is the sun? It has been masked and I have not seen light in the sky for many hours now."

Gimli shuddered, his small eyes shifting from the sky to Legolas. "You think Sauron has the Ring?"

"I fear so, but I am not completely sure"   

"This does not finalise our route" Gimli snapped irritably.

"No, it does not. But it makes each direction equally as dark and dangerous" Legolas replied in a strange, stressed tone that did not suit him.

Gimli looked into his strained face for several moments and wished dearly there was something he could do to ease the burden that had settled about his friends shoulders. The weight of struggling with a mortal life and body was telling on him, he looked dead upon his feet, no longer the eager faced and sharp eyed friend he remembered. He was beaten and defeated, broken and struggling to repair himself, all dignity and pride lost. He could find no words of comfort, but understood the sooner they left this dark and hostile land the better it would be for the pair of them.

"The path back to Minas Tirith is filled with less danger then the one ahead of us" he said, "in Gondor we will find Aragorn and will be able to inform him of the ill that befell the company. Even if the Ring has been exchanged the men of Gondor and Rohan will follow Aragorn where ever he leads them. They are the most faithful people I have seen to a leader" Gimli said gently. "We will find hope there, I am sure of it. And with an army masses strong we will cast down Sauron, restore the peace and save Sam and Gandalf from their fate."

 Again Legolas smiled at his sturdy companion, and was glad at last he was no longer alone. The decision he had pondered over for so long was much easier to make with someone else. Yes they would go back, go to Gondor and find Aragorn, tell him of the treachery of Aufstand.

"We will make it through" Gimli added softly kneeling next to Legolas. "We will, I promise"

Legolas nodded, somewhere in the depths of his world that had been completely turned upside down he believed Gimli's words, they would pull through, peace would be restored and life would be blissful again.

***

The unusual pairing of elf and dwarf picked themselves through the stones, back along the path they had trod just over a day ago with the company of eight others, six elves, one wizard and one hobbit. They were stumbling in their weariness; to lift each foot was draining on their energy supplies. They needed to ration what little food and water they had gathered, and could only rest once maybe twice a day, the constant threat of danger would not allow them to find rest even once they had stopped. Their born warrior skills forced them to trundle onwards through the everlasting starless darkness. 

 The pass of Cirith Ungol and the Winding Stairs were far steeper and dangerous climbing down then upwards. Once or twice they had slipped but were able to catch themselves before they slid too far. They tried not to think about the mile long drop below them, but concentrate on the steep and dangerous path that lay at their feet. 

Gimli was in the lead, struggling to lower himself down the tall stairs without falling, testing each step carefully before putting his full weight upon it. His wisdom in stone and rock told him where to grip and what to avoid, but the decent was making him dizzy and unbalanced. 

 Suddenly there was nothing to stop him, nothing to hold onto as the step beneath him crumpled despite his tests. A silent scream was uttered from his lips as he toppled forward, his arms groping for a hand hold, but found nothing. 

Panicking in his helpless state Gimli braced himself as the rocky and deadly path rushed towards him. He closed his eyes expecting pain and death.

But it never came, instead he felt something catch him and pull him up straight, then backwards, settling finally on something soft and distinctly not rock like.   

 He opened his eyes and looked down, a pair of thin, but strong arms was gripping him around the chest, and he looked over his shoulder and nearly cried at the slight of Legolas's face. But he could remember looking over his shoulder and seeing him several steps behind him, how could he have reached him and pulled him back so quickly?

 The grip fell away from his chest and Gimli stood allowing Legolas to move, he wanted to ask him how he did it, but something else completely different distracted him.

There was something very hard and coarse in on of his friend's pockets. 

Rubbing his backside where it had bruised him Gimli asked: "What on earth do you have in that pocket? Rocks?" he half joked. 

Legolas laughed, "I do actually! I meant to show it earlier but I must have forgotten. Here" he pulled the stone from his pocket, feeling again its angry words and vibrations.

 Gimli took the jagged stone from his friends hand and turned it over in his own, his eyes taking in every detail and his face unreadable.

Legolas watched him closely, not sure if he should tell him what he felt when he held it. Gimli stopped turning it in his hands and stared at it, his brow frowned.

"Could you hear it?" he asked looking up at Legolas seriously.

Legolas shook his head: "I could hear its voice but I could not make out its words. It spoke in a dialogue I cannot understand, something ancient I believe."

Gimli nodded, "It is not a language I can understand either. An ancient form of Mordor maybe, I cannot be sure. It does however use some words that sound very familiar to the ancient tongue of dwarves." Gimli said his frown deepening. 

"Have you ever heard them before?" Legolas asked.

"No, never, I have felt their feelings and understandings by touch. I doubt you have never experienced this before either?"

Legolas shook his head, this shortened hair slapping his ears. "No, never before have I heard rock and stone speak before only plant life and the wind" he said, watching Gimli stare at the stone. "Can you make anything out?"

The colour suddenly faded from Gimli's face and he threw away the stone with a worried look upon his face.

"What is it?" Legolas asked, alarmed.

Gimli looked up at his faced his friend, his eyes lacking the glitter of hope they had a few minuets ago.

"Sauron has the Ring" he said, struggling to bring out the words, "he is planning a massive attack upon the men of Gondor and Rohan. His army is nearly complete, he has the ruling Ring and is using it"   

 Legolas took half a step back and turned back to face Mordor, his eyes wide with fear. The signs had pointed to it all along, yet he continued to hope and pray he was reading them incorrectly. Now there was no avoiding or denying the truth. The ancient parts of this world such as tree and stone do not lie.

He turned back to Gimli, "We need to hurry back to Gondor, before it is too late"

But Gimli did not seem to share his confidence, "You saw the army building" he said, "You saw the size of it, do you think we can out run them to Gondor and still have the strength to fight them?" he asked.

 Legolas knew the answer, but he was not about to give up. "The changes are slim, but we could. We cannot stand by and let the people suffer and die."

"We won't be able to reach them in time" Gimli pressed. "Even if we had the power of flight we would only just have the time to revive ourselves before the battle would be upon us!"

"But I will not stand by and let my friends die! You may be use to standing by letting the world go past, but I cannot."

"Legolas please, let me finish!" Gimli pleaded catching Legolas's arm before he speed down the stairs. "Even if you arrive in Gondor before the enemy you will not find Aragorn there" he cried.

Legolas snapped his head at him, "Why not?"

Gimli took a deep steadying breath, "Because he is here, in Mordor. The enemy have captured him; he's imprisoned in Barad-dûr with Sam and Gandalf"

Legolas blinked, "You learnt all this from a stone?" he asked in disbelief.

"From more then one" Gimli said, still keeping his grip upon his friend. "If we want to save Gondor and the Free People we have to go into Mordor, we have to free Aragorn, Sam and Gandalf. We need to destroy the Ring"

 Legolas crouched upon the stair, shaking his head. "No I don't believe it" he said, "I don't believe he is here. Why, why would he leave Minas Tirith?"

Gimli shook his head, "I don't know, I really don't know, but he has and he is here"

"There is no way we can go into Mordor, Gimli. Even if we manage to free Sam and the others we won't be able to take the Ring, we would die trying"

"There is no other way" Gimli tired, "If we were to go back to Gondor will find it empty and the battle over, the men slain. The only choice we have it go forward, sneak into Mordor and do what we can" 

"You don't understand!" Legolas cried, his voice hoarse, "Sauron and Aufstand are expecting us –"

"No, their not, they think we are dead" Gimli hushed him. "We have a chance, we could do this"

Legolas pulled away, his face twisted in and torn between the decision. 

***

In the upper level of Barad-dûr Aufstand had lost all her confidence she displayed whilst taunting Aragorn in his small cell. She stood trembling from head to toe the tall, dark, and fearful shape of Sauron was disappointed in her. Disappointment meant punishment which meant pain and torture. She knew this, and watched him walk around her with large fearful eyes. 

 "I can trust no one it seems" the Dark Lord said pacing around her menacingly. "I never give orcs difficult tasks, other then to kill everything in their paths. It seems you can not even obey a simple order like that" he continued, his face masked by a horridly shaped helmet with face piece and his body hidden under a suite of armour. Aufstand suspected he was itched to get his hands dirty, could not wait until war marched his way, there would be no negotiations, no peace, no treaty, no agreement just blood, sweat and total domination.   

"Two of our underground rats you were suppose to have killed are roaming my borders, alive" Sauron ceased pacing and staring at Aufstand who was now visibly trembling.

"I am sorry my Lord" she muttered, nervously. "Forgive me please"

Sauron laughed and threw a fast, sharp punch, catching her chin with a metal gloved hand.

Stifling a scream she gritted her teeth and stood up straight again after being knocked off balance.

"I don't not forgive anyone." Sauron said flatly, flexing the gloved hand he had punched her with. "However, after all you have done I am going to give you another change to raise yourself." He stepped closer and Aufstand trembled more violently then before, though she was doing her best to control herself.

"Go out and kill them. This time make sure they are dead – I will be watching"

Aufstand stepped back and bowed muttering, "Thank you my Lord, so kind of you"

"Do this alone," the Dark Lord added, "you have already wasted enough of my troops"

Aufstand bowed again and hurried out of the room, pale and shaking worse then a leaf in a storm. She descended the winding stairs of the tower at a run, tightening her sword belt and touching her quiver full of arrows and her treasured bow. She paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, picking up a pair of knives which she attached to her sword belt.  Then hurried outside, to correct her errors, to please her master and end the lives of the troubling pair that still roamed about alive, rubbing her face in her failure. 

***

Above the glistening white walls of Minas Tirith the watchman Menvan squinted at the movement on the misty river and called over his colleague for a second opinion. The pair stared hard, through the mists something was stirring on the water. Then the mist parted, bellowing dramatically allowing four tall ships to pass. 

"Summon the Steward" Menvan said to his colleague who hurried away.

 The white sails of the ships were stretched with the winds pushing them further and faster down river, the tall mast made the distant trees look incredibly small and the powerful wide river look like a small stream. 

 Faramir and Éomer arrived at Menvan's side watched the vessels as they smoothly sailed down the river towards them and the broken, once glamorous city of Osgiliath. 

 From aboard the first vessel a horn blasted and Faramir ordered a watchman to reply. The note of the elvish horn wavered and changed, the vessels speeding towards Osgiliath, cloven in half by the river. Elves stood upon the ships decks, their bow strings taut, and their bright eyes watching the riverbanks keenly.

Beside the watchmen Faramir raised a hand over his eyes, focusing on something beyond the ships. There was a moving line of shadows moving steadily towards them from the north, half hidden by the mists that had spread from the river over land. The Steward glanced at Éomer beside him with questioning his eyes, but Elrond's messenger elf had joined them upon the battlement and he smiled.

"Do not fret, by Lords. Those are the remaining forces of the Mirkwood elves, for Sauron and the traitors Cassione and Aufstand attacked them leaving them broken beyond all repair. Many of their number are mortal now, but they still wish to fight, to make a difference even if it costs them their lives"

Faramir nodded silently, he could feel Éomer's eyes watching him. The elves of Mirkwood were role models, for all the men. With the forces of two elven realms and the forces of Rohan and Gondor their army was great, but was enough? 

Only time will tell.

 The tall elven ships dropped anchor as close to Minas Tirith as possible, for the river bending away from the fortress. Lines of tall, proud, well armed hooded elves streamed into the White City, the numbers from Mirkwood not far behind. 

 Elrond, Faramir and Éomer inclined their heads to one another. "Two hundred I bring from Rivendell" Elrond said, "A further four hundred more come from Mirkwood" 

"Four thousand strong are the Rohirrim, and as it stands seven thousand of Gondor" Éomer said. 

Nearly twelve thousand men and elves, it sounded a lot but quietly Faramir began to doubt it would be enough.  

They would be lambs to the slaughter. 

**Reviewers**

**Alida****-Fruit**: Thank you again for your review, I am very glad to hear you are hooked upon this story, to tell you the truth so am I! I am currently finishing chapter seven and I am mapping out what should/could/may happen next, though half of the stuff I write just comes straight off my head without planning or anything!

 I'm also in the middle of writing some more new stuff which sadly has grounded to a halt. *Sigh* Oh well – must battle onwards!  ;))


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 Under the forever dark sky the crowd of restless horses, flinging their heads into the air and stamping hooves and the crowd of equally restless men and elves began to file out of Minas Tirith. They trod the spiralling paths towards the gate, the pavements lined with women and children weeping softly, throwing flowers onto their path to bring good luck. 

 Upon a chestnut horse Faramir recalled his feelings when his father forced him and a small band outwards to retake Osgiliath when the orcs over took the city eight years ago. Back then, the women were throwing flowers into his path, some thinking that Denethor had descended into instantly after losing his eldest son and even Gandalf pleaded Faramir to stay, but he had to prove to his father that they could not beat what Sauron had bought upon them.

 Now, however he was leading the people into battle in the absence of the King thought to be lost somewhere in the darkness. With him sharing his saddle was Pippin of the Shire, alongside them rode Éomer, King of the Mark sharing with Merry and on their other side Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. Beside Elrond was Thranduil, King of Mirkwood and behind followed the mass of their combined army tolling nearly twelve thousand.  

 Faramir was surprised by the number of women the elves had bought from Mirkwood, but he was assured by Thranduil the women of his tribe were as strong as the men in battle, the only difference was the women bore and looked after the children also. He found himself being smiled at and overly addressed to by an elven maiden who like Thranduil explained she and her other fighting brothers and sisters were able to fight was well as any solider. To demonstrate she drew her sword and playfully duelled with the nearest solider finally pinning him to the gate by his tunic. Laughing Faramir believed her and let her wonder away after freeing the shaken solider.    

 The men were equally surprised, some of them speechless at the number of elven maids that had come to fight. Faramir had caught one man staring with a dreamy look upon his face at one as she adjusted her breast plate. She fluttered her eyelashes at him when she spotted him, the solider turned red in the face and turned away as if he had been chided. 

 The arrival of the elves had boosted the moral of the men and more wanted to join the effort. Faramir had to explain a number needed to stay behind should the fortress become under attack when they were abroad. He caught a small boy no more then ten years old trying to sneak into line next to Merry and Pippin, all dressed up for battle. He took the weapons from him and sent him back to his mother who swept him up and wagged a finger warningly at her son.

 Secretly he still doubted the number they had would be suffice, unlike the last time they marched to Mordor; they were going for victory not to buy time for an insider. This time they wanted freedom.

***

Slowly elf and dwarf dragged their wearily feet back along the dark tunnel where they nearly met their demise only hours ago. They could only go forwards now, forwards meant back through the dark, foul smelling tunnel which had turned into a tomb. It was not as hard as they first thought finding the path they had trodden already; it was their hesitation and fear of something leaping out of the depths of the shadows that slowed them the most. The battle to remain awake and to keep moving was becoming a marathon by the second.

Gimli shuddered in the darkness, his breath shallow and his eyes flashing, "Never will I be able to walk underground in the same way again" he said. Beside him Legolas felt the same, he had never enjoyed travelling underground but now he was sure in the future he would avoid doing so with it all his might.   

 The tunnel was thankfully still and silent, the only noise was the sound of their footfalls and the occasional whoosh of a blade cutting the thick web strands which blocked their path. They trod carefully around their fallen comrades, muttering a prayer as they went. Normally they would hold a burial for the fallen, but they did not have the luxury to do so. Time was against them, pressing upon their chests like hammer falls. 

 Crunching underfoot was the small glass fragments of the mortal taking weapons Cassione and Aufstand had developed, the dry and cracked soil had soaked up the liquid inside greedily. Gimli grunted in the darkness and Legolas turned to the sound of his voice, guessing the in the dark. 

"There is something here" the dwarf muttered, his hands groping for the item he was looking for. Finally after several seconds of searching he raised the item he had found, running his hands along its smooth surface, touching the broken ends sadly.

"It's Gandalf's staff," he said handing it to Legolas to inspect, "Snapped in two"

Legolas felt the white ash staff in the darkness feeling its smooth grain and the familiar curves in the wood where Gandalf's hands and wore a dent in the wood. 

"I was with him when Aufstand shot him causing him to drop this" he said quietly running his hands around the area where the diamond shaped head once stood, now broken and splintered. 

Gimli gently patted him upon the back, or what he could reach: "Don't blame yourself, there wasn't anything you could have done. At least you stayed with them to the end, unlike me" he smiled sadly.

 Legolas looked into his friends eyes: "It was my fault Gimli, and you said it yourself earlier. If I hadn't bought –"

"Now stop right there" Gimli cut across him with a stern tone. "If we knew then none of us would have let her go. But the point is none of knew, it doesn't matter now. What is done in none and there is nothing we can do about it"

 Legolas nodded and let the staff ends slip through his fingers landing gently on the hard ground, "I want to find them Gimli" he said with renewed strength, "I want to find them and return the pain and horror upon her, punish her for all she has done. For my people and many like me"

"Me too, me too Legolas" Gimli half smiled at his comrade who seemed lost and afraid a moment ago but now was focused and strong again.

This was the Legolas he remembered, and always did.

Now shaken free of their powerful grief and fuelled with renewed strength the pair made good time through the dark paths. The journey was shorter then they thought and mercifully much, much shorter then the path through Moria though equally as painful. 

 Round the next corner and through the thick cobwebs they paused and rubbed their eyes. At the end of the tunnel was an opening leading outside, the dull light of an overcast sky was indeed a sight for sore eyes. The grins upon their faces broadened and with almost a drunken state of happiness they raced towards the opening and threw themselves outside in the open air, which in comparison to the tunnel was surprisingly sweet, even in such a horrid and hostile land.  

***

Racing hard, fuelled with fear of failure and the wrath of Sauron Aufstand ran faster and harder then she had ever run before. Even for an elf she covered land extremely fast, bowling anything in her path. Orcs were jeering and joking as she fought through them, her punishment was obviously well spread throughout the hierarchy of foes in Mordor. She did not let them stop her as she sprinted with long strides over the plains towards the borders estimating her foes progress after their battle. 

 They would be wounded, tired and dishearten after finding the fate of the company with Sam and Gandalf missing and the Ring in the hands of the enemy. Had they run into trouble with another foe whilst in their run down state? She knew not, but she knew the giant spider Shelob that dwelt in the tunnel was becoming restless recently and was quick off the mark if it would earn her a meal. 

Which way would they go? Would they risk the long, adjourns path homewards towards aid and the realms of men, or would they risk the more dangerous and foolish path deeper into hostile lands? 

 She stopped dead suddenly kicking up a small cloud of dust and crouched down, listening hard. There was her answer – the relieved laughter of elf and dwarf on this side of the mountain.

 Sneering sinisterly she drew her throwing knives and crept closer.

Aufstand accuracy was deadly – even Legolas had admitted that.

***

In his joy Gimli knelt in the loose stones and laughed loudly, running his hands over the rocks and gazing up to the sky. Behind him Legolas' smile slide off his face quickly and he reached to silence his friend. But Gimli beat away his hand, crying out loud in his near drunken state of sleep deprivation: "Oh, we made it! Never did I think I would be so glad to see a dark and miserable sky!" he laughed.

"Hush Gimli!" Legolas whispered kicking Gimli playfully so he fell face first into the loose stones. 

Instantly the laughter fell away and the dwarf growled as he rose, "What did you have –" he began but Legolas clamped a hand over his mouth.

"We are being followed, and no thanks to you they know exactly where we are" he hissed while his eyes scanned the area.

Gimli shook his head out of Legolas' grip, "You sure? How long have they been following us?" he asked, his voice whispering deeply ashamed of himself.

"No for very long. I felt them rather then saw them"  
Gimli tilted his head but said nothing, knowing half well not to argue with elf-like creatures. 

"Act completely normal, I don't think our friend knows we know about them. Let's just keep going, but keep on the look out in case they try to ambush us"

Gimli nodded and asked out of the corner of his mouth, "How many of them are there?"

"I think it's just a couple of scouts, but I'm not sure"

Not wanting to argue Gimli rose and silently they started their decent to flat ground at the foot of the mountains, followed by their stalker.

Little words were exchanged between elf and dwarf as they picked their way through the bare and dark land, forever eastwards. 

Out of the corner of his mouth Gimli spoke: "Are we still being tailed?"

Legolas nodded slightly his eyes darting from left to right as they dashed from rock to rock attempting to hide themselves from unwanted eyes. 

Gimli growled deeply, "I wish they would show themselves –" he raised his axe slightly "– then they can meet my axe".

Keeping a safe distance Aufstand sneered "You wish me to show myself, master dwarf? Very well, let us just see how long it takes you to work out who it is who is tracking you" she repositioned herself and pulled back her arm, a slim lightweight throwing knife held between her fingers. 

***

Hunched against the wall of his cell Gandalf pulled his dirty robes closer, trying to block out the cold and hot flushes of a fever. Beads of sweat formed upon his knitted brow and ran down his back, pressed hard against the cell wall.  He was weak, exhausted and worst still powerless to help himself or anyone else. 

 His heart ached with the unknown fate of Sam, the most innocent member of the fellowship who had seen by far the worst moments and hardships. He had witnessed Frodo spiralling out of control, broken and worn down by the Ring while it called out to him day and night, begging for the Gardner to steal it from his master and to hear the constant muttering of Gollum. Shaking his head Gandalf remembered Sam only came because he had made him. Eight years ago when Gandalf explained to Frodo the truth of Bilbo's magic Ring Sam was eavesdropping outside the open window. Too afraid to truly admit what he had heard and what Gandalf could do to him Sam begged for mercy and promised he would do anything. So Gandalf made him go with Frodo to Bree, their journey was fraught with difficulties and dangers, but they met many new and useful friends along the way. Merry and Pippin joined them, they ran into trouble in the Old Forest and befriended Tom Bombadil and later Aragorn under his mysterious disguise of the Ranger from the North called Strider.  None of this should have happened, if Saruman had not turned, if they continued to climb over Caradhras instead of turning back, taking the deep and dangerous path through the mines of Moira they would not have met the Balrog meaning Gandalf would have remained with the company when they needed him the most. Many things would have been different. But that was it, nothing could be changed, what is done is done. Nothing he could do would help him as he sat, racked with fever trapped in the darkness, alone and afraid.

 Elrond was right; when they started out from Rivendell many months ago Elrond disclosed to him that he was afraid for his family and his people. Afraid that the chain of events that had started meant more then first thought. He guessed that Gollum was not behind the rumours he had heard for was too small and weak to carry out such evil. It had to be someone else – but who would have thought it would be one of his race, or should he say two? The two treacherous sisters of Mirkwood aided Sauron to take back everything he wanted and needed everything from the rebuilding of his domain to aiding him to return to his body. They had helped the most evil thing ever done in an age.

 Even when Cassione begged to her life when the Nazgúl swooped down upon her Gandalf did not feel compassion or pity for her, nor when she lay dead did he grieve for her and similar would be his response should Aufstand be killed.   

 There was no calm and peace left in him now only anger, bitterness and deep set hate. But even that was knocked out of place by overpowering and depressing realization of his situation, trapped, beaten and broken. 

 One by one he watched his mostly elven company fight and die around him. They gave their lives to protect them, yet it had all been in vain. Their bodies would rot away deep in the underground, dangerous passage of Cirith Ungol. There no one would ever find them, so even if by fortune one was still lived no aid would help him and they would fade away in the same predicament as the once grand and proud wizard. Alone, injured and ensnared in this struggle for freedom against the slavery of Mordor. 

Shivering Gandalf pulled his cloak ever tighter about himself and urged himself not to give in. Once before he stood trapped and alone in hostile and dangerous territory but hope had found him in the shape of a moth which bought the eagles to his aid. Though there was no moth to help this time it did not mean help could not find him. He forced his exhausted and numb mind into work, planning, plotting and calling for aid from anything that would answer. 

 An image fluttered before his eyes and he saw Elrond in Rivendell after he had voiced his fears. He stood tall with a tear shinning in his eyes, but he stood tall and strong defining Sauron. 

Still shivering Gandalf sat tall with his back straight and tried to recapture his friends burning passion and powerful stance, mirroring the elven strength and heeding to their ancient words of hope, clinging onto the dream of peace and freedom.

***

_Ping__!_

 Legolas and Gimli turned quickly, bowstring taut and axe raised, but nothing greeted them. Gimli bent and picked up the knife that had bounced off his helmet with a sharp and painful ping. He briefly looked at it then glanced sideways at Legolas who had not shown any acknowledgement of knife at all, but continued to stare ahead of him, tensely like an animal under threat. 

Gimli was about to speak when another knife whipped through the air like an angry insect and with a sharp _tang! _Legolas jumped backwards clutching his face, his broken bow lying upon the ground. The knife had cut the taut bowstring which backfired and cut his face and right hand. Gimli had seen it done once before even that was an accident. Whoever throwing these knives had a deadly aim. He shivered suddenly, only one foe could he think of had such a deadly aim. Aufstand.

 Legolas lowered his hands Gimli could see how lucky he was not to loose his fingers or his right eye. His fingers were deeply cut which ran along the creases of all four fingers but his fore and middle finger were cut the deepest by the thin bowstring. The skin around his right eye had also cut and when he turned his head at the noise of running feet Gimli saw Legolas had lost the pointed tip on his right ear where the string had been pulled back to before it was cut. Despite the blood sliding down his face and running off his fingers Legolas was completely focused, swiftly he drew the sword at his waist and parried with the blur that leapt onto them.

 Aufstand rolled upon her shoulder and flicked her wrist sending another knife towards elf and dwarf, shortly followed by another and another. Legolas defected the first with the elven sword which rang with a clear note, Gimli was just able to dodge the second and the third struck his helmet with another sharp _ping!_

 Righting herself Aufstand drew her short sword and slid her arm through the various straps on the underside of her shield.  

She had expected them to be broken, exhausted and frightened but she couldn't have mean any more wrong. They were focused, determined and filled with rage. And as she looking into Legolas eyes she suddenly realised Sauron had sent her to her death, there was no way she could kill both Legolas and Gimli alone. They were driven more passionately then she was. They were driven out of anger for what she and her sister had done to them and the elves, they wanted to live, survive, save their friends and return the world to times of peace and tranquillity. She was only driven out of fear of failure and the wrath of Sauron – fear against pure anger. It was not the fight of good and evil, right and wrong but of emotion and a battle of fears.

 She made the first move, charged at them her sword angled dangerously. Her shield caught Legolas' sword as he swung it to catch her and she flicked her wrist, the sword lunged to strike him but fell short. Instead she pivoted upon her toe, her sword spinning with her at arms length. She saw Legolas take a step backwards and raise the sword to his chest to pare her blade away should it come any closer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement and immediately slide aside as Gimli's axe struck the ground, just where she had been. Flattening her feet she ceased spinning and put more weight behind her sword, swinging it towards her short enemy. He dwarf ducked her attack with some degree of elegancy and she had twist herself completely around to counter the swinging blade. 

Gimli raised his axe and just as he was about to swing Aufstand elven made, slim sword cut through the wooden hilt with some ease. He threw her a fleeting look then as quickly as he could he reached for his smaller axes. Her sword twirled fatally above his head and before Legolas could reach them she had sent Gimli's helmet flying with the blade and cut into his scalp.

With a pained cry Legolas leapt upon her knocking her away as Gimli fell heavily  upon the ground and lay still. Aufstand had managed to refocus herself and allowed herself to be trusted along by Legolas' anger waiting for her chance. Swiftly and sharply she caught her blade with his and the pair stood with their faces inches apart their hilts intertwined above their heads.

"You want to know why?" she snapped, keeping tension upon her blade held above them both. "You want to know why we did all this? Understand this, not everyone is easily satisfied with the dull life of the forest as the soft hearted fools are." She hissed, "While everyone else was thinking me to be some silent sickly youngster I was planning something quite different."

Legolas did not speak but put focused his tired mind to keeping the tension upon his blade his arms were aching and his face throbbing.

"I was fascinated by the enemy. While you father ordered them to be killed day and night they came near I watched them from a distance and commanded them in their own tongue I had learnt after stealing a book from Elrond's study. It's amazing the things the orcs would do for you with the prospect of promotion. I befriended Nightmares using the same technique and I sent them upon you and Estel one night, unaware Cassione was with you. Silly girl"

Pushing against his blade Legolas fought to understand all this; Aufstand the King's maid was dark and deadly.

"I had to teach her what I knew to keep herself safe, but Thranduil grew suspicious of her after he had realised she was muttering Black Speech and ordered her to leave. Strange facts like that seemed to slip away from you father like water in cupped hands. The fool even forgot the family connection between the two of us. After terrorizing the elves for fun the next step was something far more dangerous. Then we heard about the Ring."

This was hard to take in. Some movement caught Legolas' attention and he stole a quick glance – Gimli was alive and awake listening to every word!

"We wanted to track the two hobbits and Gollum but they fell into the hands of men and as Sauron gained power Thranduil began to depend on me, our chance was lost. Or so we thought. Gollum was far easier to kill then the hobbits would have been"

Legolas shook his stunned mind, "You did this out of boredom!" he cried.

She laughed and added more pressure making Legolas bend backwards slightly, "Oh no, not out of boredom little Prince. Fascination at first, but now for power and purification. The lives of folk on Middle-Earth should not live as long as they are. All should be dead and their lands belong to Mordor. The only immortal life should be the Dark Lord and his minions, set to rule this world for all time."

He couldn't believe this. How could she believe such nonsense?

"Sauron cares not for your life; otherwise you would not be here fighting me. He has sent you to your death"

She laughed quietly adding more pressure and again Legolas felt his spine bend and his legs began to shake with exhaustion. "You know nothing" she whispered.

"I know that that mark upon you face was not caused by any ordinary foe of Mordor. I know you are totally alone, everyone you cared for is gone, family and friends. You slew them!"

Her eyes narrowed into slits, pushing harder against his bloody hands.

"Even when you perish you will find no rest from you life of evil and torture." Legolas continued, "The Valar will not allow to rest in peace, they will haunt you, forcing you to recall every murder you made. They will break you and cause harm until the day the world dies. That is your punishment, your fate no matter what the outcome is today. If you kill me, my death will be among the many that will haunt you forever, and if I kill you there would still be no escape from your fate."

His words had such a power affect upon Aufstand she pushed hard knocking Legolas to the ground the sword falling out of his hand.

With a roar of rage she bought her sword down upon him.

"Legolas!" Gimli shouted leaping to his feet, his head lurching horridly thrusting him back into unconsciousness where he could not hear the screams or help his friend in great need.

**Reviewers:**

**Alida_Fruit: **My die hard fan! I hope this chapter was full filling enough for you! I am very sorry for the rather late update but I've just started a new job and haven't really had the time to do much writing expect maybe when I am commuting to and fro from work on a ferry. ;) Its rather hard to write when you are surrounded by nosy kids and your pen keeps slipping off the page! Never the less more chapter are being developed every so often! Thanks for your continuous praise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Aufstand's sword came down swiftly falling point first into the soil, inches away from Legolas' already bloody face. 

A wave of blood sprayed his torso and her screeches deafened him. She stood above him screaming and waving her bloody wrist stump which oozed not bright red blood but thick black instead. Cursed by all the innocent lives she had taken.

Ashamed, blinded by her tears of pain and horror she fled blindly over the land, disappearing into the darkness.

Legolas stared at the small knife in his hand coated in the thick dull coloured liquid. It had happened so quickly he had to paused to work out what he had done. She had toppled him over and just as she was about to strike him with her sword he saw something glitter in the corner of his eye. He snatched it up hurriedly and swept to across his vision not expecting the outcome. The small throwing knife she had thrown was remarkably strong and extremely sharp. He threw it aside and nudged her sword hand aside and urged himself to move again.  

 Crawling with exhaustion and sick with what may met him Legolas crawled to Gimli's still side and gently touched his face and dapping the wound upon his scalp. The blood was still warm as was his cheek and with a relieved sigh Legolas saw his small but tough chest rise and fall with steady breath. 

Utterly spent he laid his head upon his friend's steady heartbeat and slept.

***

The mass from of elves and men rested the night in the open, under the overcast sky which covered the moon and stars that would normally shine down upon them.

Many of the men could not find sleep though the bodies were tired from their march for there were not enough horses for everyone. 

Around the burning campfire Merry and Pippin spoke in quite tones.

"I wonder what they are making of this back at home?" Pippin whispered.

Merry shrugged nothing Pippin had said had taken his troubled mind of where they were heading. The most he had earned was a simple 'yes' or 'no'.

"They wouldn't understand it. They don't know about Sauron and the Ring apart from myths and stories, they will believe what I did at the beginning - that Frodo beat them and the Ring was gone." Pippin sighed, "I wish that had happened and everything was back to normal"

"Normal?" a new deeper voice echoed. "You have not known normal, none of us have" Faramir sat beside them both, warming his hands.

"Gandalf explained the Ring had been in Bilbo's keeping for seventy years and before that with the creature Gollum and centuries ago in the hands of Isildur and before him Sauron himself. Neither us have known a 'normal' life where the world was rid of the Ring. It had remained hidden and silent far centuries but never destroyed." He said half turning to the hobbits. "The world has never experienced proper peace."

"It's about time it does!" Pippin stood drawing his sword. Blankly Merry looked at him, and then returned his gaze to the flickering fire.

"Well said, my hobbit friend." Faramir smiled; "Save your energy and determination for the battle" he said placing a firm hand on Pippin's sword arm forcing the blade downwards. "Hold onto your hope" 

"It is not a question of hope and courage, is it?" Merry asked suddenly.

The smile faded from Faramir's lips and he stared at Merry.

"We don't have the numbers to defeat Sauron, do we? We will be massacred"

Several nearby men stopped talking and stared, a deadly hush fell about the camp.

"Has your experience taught you nothing, master Merry?" Faramir asked sternly.

"Every battle you have fought in we were grossly outnumbered but who were the victors? Who won the battle of Minas Tirith? Who walked away from Mordor alive?" As he spoke Faramir seemed to grow in power. "We did. Though it was not easy and we lost many lives we won. Do not think for one moment that this battle will be easy, Merry. It does not matter that we may be outnumbered, what matters is how we fight. If we fight with courage and with tactics anything is possible." Merry turned his gaze back the fire, feeling defeated and ashamed of his words, but Faramir had not yet finished.

"I am sure King Elessar and his friends told you of the battle in Helm's Deep?" 

Pippin nodded silently.

"Three hundred Men against ten thousand Uruk-hai – who had the victory then?"

Babble and mild cheering broke about on the camp and Merry's face began to change colour.

Pippin elbowed him "Why did you have to say such a thing?"

Merry snapped his head round sharply, "Because it is true. Everything eight years ago was helped by fortune: Gandalf, Aragorn, Frodo – where are they now? There is no hope." 

"No hope, Master Meriadoc?" another new voice echoed him.

They looked up and saw Elrond was standing over them; the fire lit the strange glint in his eyes.

"Why do you think Aragorn's elven name is Estel if he does not bring hope to those who need it?" he asked. "Though he maybe missing or captured he will not let us down. If it is the lack of strength in arms that worries you or the courage of the men and elves here, then cease to worry." He raised his voice slightly and turned around the camp, nearly every pair of eyes where watching him. "When I walked into Minas Tirith yesterday morn I did not say the number I gave was the total of warriors you would receive. More aid is coming."

***

 Within the land or Mordor, in the dark tower of Barad-dûr Lord Sauron dressed on full battle armour turned away from the window slit he had been gazing out of. Below him the mass of orcs were moving and several scuffles were breaking out as the horde restlessly moved, but it was not that that he turned away from. In the distance and out if sight a servant dehorned him. It did not matter now, for his trust in her was failing by the day. He knew that her and her sister hid the One Ring from him, yet he let them, knowing full well that they would pay for it later. He was furious at first knowing they were denying him the chance to reclaim the Ring earlier, but they did prove to be useful allies. With their inside knowledge the realms of elves were broken and destroyed. All that opposed were the leaderless number of men and a handful of others.   

 Aufstand and the two wonders on the boarder were no threat to him, instead he turned his gaze to the movement in the west. The mass army that was heading towards him.

"Let them come"

The sea of orcs below would greet them with sword, shield, tooth and claw.

***

Elrond's confused message was the subject of talk between the ranks in the morning whilst the company prepared themselves to break camp.

Again Pippin was talking but his words were falling upon Merry's deaf ears. His troubled mind still could not be distracted.

"I wonder who he was talking about? I mean their aren't anymore elves, unless he has managed to call them back from across the sea" Pippin rattled on, "Maybe there are more men that will come! Or maybe – hey Merry what do you think? Will other hobbits come do you think? Merry?"

 Merry wasn't listening, he was staring at his plate his mind miles away.

"Fine then!" Pippin sulked, and then he spied the food still left on Merry's plate. "Can I –?"

Merry still didn't respond and quicker then the blink of an eye Pippin had snatched away the remains of Merry's food.

 Sitting away from Pippin's constant chatter Éomer was reflecting on the outcome of the battle. He could see his sister's tearful face as she stood in front of his gaze at Edoras. The image flickered and he saw her again, donned in battle gear standing upon the battlements of Helm's Deep with her people. He had sent her there to the Rohan stronghold. Edoras is exposed and he feared they would become under attack while he was gone. She was a Shield Maiden of Rohan, a fighter, a survivor. If anyone could fill the place of her uncle she could. She had his courage, his bravery, his hope and optimism. She would rule Rohan well should something happen to him.  His wife Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth would mourn should he fall in battle but he was confident she would not become weighed down by grief and would be able to move on and settle again. 

 He looked over to the crowd of elves to his left. They were changed people, but like he they were fighting for the same cause. He watched one women being comforted by another and Éomer felt a wash of pity for her as she sobbed onto the other shoulder. How many lives had they lost? How many family members had they buried?

Not only was the threat of Sauron very really but it destroyed homes, crops and ripped apart lives.

It had to stop.

***

Erbschaft marched at the head of the Mirkwood company keeping a steady quick march eastwards. Several rows behind him his wife Nymane marched with their brothers and sisters in arms. It was hard for them to place their son into the care of another, but somewhere deep down they knew it was the right thing to do. They wanted to fight not just of King and country but for freedom and for the chance for his son to grow up in a peaceful world, not ruled by dangers and shadows. It was a very powerful drive, many other parents had fallen into also, picking up weapons while kissing their children and families goodbye. The truth behind the destruction of their home and of Lothlórien had come out and the elves were in ranged by it. Driving them to fight, forcing them to take a role in bidding for freedom and release. The possibility of his brother lying dead within Mordor betrayed by one he believed he could trust infuriated Erbschaft but he would not allow himself to boil into a rage quite yet.

That would fuel his fight.

***

   The sound of clashing metal upon metal awoke Sam from his slumber. Disorientated he gazed around himself searching for the source of the sound but only found four grim walls stare back at him. The noise of clashing metal came again and Sam sat up straight, his eyes wide. Had the battle already started? The final battle? Was aid coming? 

He groped around his small, windowless cell desperate to hear more but found himself to be disheartened when he could hear the chatter of orcs speaking roughly in Black Speech.

The battle had not yet come, and aid had not found them.

Slumping down again Sam felt the pain of helplessness creep over him again and threatened to spill tears. He was lost, afraid, beaten and depressed, all hope and desire to live was gone. 

_"Hold onto hope Samwise"_

Sam's eyes darted around the cell. Something just spoke to him, at least he thought it did. Maybe he was hearing things in his broken state.

_"Help is coming"_

There it was again. Sam sat up and gazed around himself again. The noise of fighting orcs had passed away and silence stretched out. Nothing moved in the corridor beyond his cell door. Yet the air was full of excitement.

_"You will see the Shire again Samwise Gamgee" _

That voice sounded strangely familiar, it spoke softly to him, and how did it know him?

Was it Frodo talking to him from beyond the Sea?

He heard the same voice laugh softly, _"No I am not Frodo, my dear hobbit. Though I am sure he is thinking about you"_

Something clicked into place and Sam wanted to leap up and shout, but he was still puzzled by how this was possible.

"Gandalf, is that you?" he asked in a quite whisper as not to attract attention.

Again the voice chuckled lightly, _"Yes it is I, Sam."_

Sam was overjoyed. "Gandalf! Oh Gandalf I feared something had happened to you!" he whispered excitedly.

_"I am well enough Sam considering where we are"_

"Aragorn, where is he? At least I believe I saw him"

_"Aragorn is here, you did see him. I have spoken to him also, he is not fairing too badly"_

Sam frowned, "How did he get here? Wasn't he supposed to be in Gondor?"

_"News reached him of Aufstand and he recalled the family connection between her and her Cassione. He left Minas Tirith to look for us, but he ran into trouble before he could find us"_

Sam nodded then suddenly realised neither Aragorn or Gandalf could see him. "How is it you can talk to me? They destroyed your staff"

_"There are a few powers I still do without it"_

Sam recalled something Gandalf had already said to him, "You said help was coming – who is it?"  

_"Ah! Not all of our company perished by Aufstand's hand two are still alive and are heading this way"_

Sam's eyes lit up, "Who are they?"

Gandalf laughed softy again, _"Surely you can guess?"_

"It's Legolas and Gimli, isn't?"

_"Indeed it is."_

"Where are they, how long will it be until they arrive here?" Sam asked felling hope for the first time.

_"Have patients Sam. They are still some way off yet and with obstacles still between them and us. Do not count all your eggs yet, my friend. We will just have to wait and see"_

Sam nodded again and leant back against the wall of his cell, happier then he had ever felt in a long time. 

_"There is a great amount of activity in Gondor, what it means I cannot tell. Something is about to happen. Something big, the earth is trembling with anger"_

***

Sluggishly Gimli stirred, his head was throbbing horribly. Like a suddenly lit light he remembered what had happened before he was overcome by blackness. They were fighting Aufstand and – and Legolas!

He opened his eyes and instantly felt the additional weight upon his chest. He raised his head and gazed at the blonde head upon his chest. 

He knew instantly who it was because Aufstand had brown hair not blonde. Again Legolas had beaten the enemy single handed while Gimli lay obvious to it only meters away. How did he do it?

 Cautiously Gimli felt his scalp where Aufstand's sword had hit him. Nausea threatened to black him out again and he hastily lowered his hand and made a mental note not to touch it again. He was surprised to see there was no blood upon his fingers when he bought them to his eyes. 

 Legolas stood up quickly, one blade in hand starring around himself.

Gimli felt like laughing, but this was not the place or time to do so. The area was empty – where was Aufstand? And was Legolas resting, as if he was asleep? This was no place to sleep!

"Where is she?" Gimli asked.

Legolas lowered his blade and offered a hand to Gimli. The dwarf took it and Legolas pulled him to his feet and caught him as he began to wobble, his head throbbing madly.

"She fled, I doubt she will be back" Legolas said brushing dust off himself.

"What do you mean 'she fled'? What did you do?"

The corner of Legolas' lips twitched and he steeped around Gimli. The dwarf's eyes fell down onto Aufstand's sword still standing point fist in the ground and her pale severed hand nearby. 

"You – how – I?" Gimli gapped and then turned back to Legolas who was sharpening Ruzlina's sword with a throwing knife. 

"That does not matter now" he said, "She was just one the many obstacles that stand between us and Barad-dûr where Sam, Gandalf and Aragorn are"

"How can you be sure that is where they are?"

Again the corners of Legolas' mouth twitched. "While I was sleeping Gandalf spoke to me"

"He spoke to you?" Gimli frowned, "But they broke his staff"

"There are still some things he can do without it. He told me he, Sam and Aragorn are alive and held prisoners in the Dark Tower"

"But?" Gimli prompted him, he was sure there was a catch.

"Between us and them stand an orc army too large to count and inside the tower itself stands Sauron with the ruling Ring firmly around his finger"

"Ah" Gimli stated, "A large problem"

"However something is moving in the west. Gandalf believes something is about to happen, something big and powerful. He says the earth is trembling with it"

Gimli picked up the nearest stone and listened to it.

"He is right. War is coming"

"There is no way of going back now, we can only go forwards." Legolas watched the dwarf drop the stone back down and it broke upon another.

"Many dangers the two of us have faced and somehow we live through them." Gimli said seriously, "Though the odds are stacked against us, let's trust in Gandalf's words. For he has never let us astray"

***

 At the rear of the company Blaen a Rohirrim rider looked over his shoulder and his mouth dropped open. A mass of movement was following them. 

"Tell the King" he urged the other rider beside him. As the other rider speed away Blaen watched the mass travel across the plains towards them. It was difficult to estimate their speed or distance but at the rate they were going they would only catch the company should they rest for the night and the other continued to tail them night long. 

 Éomer joined him at the rear of the company and he watched the mass with mixed opinions.

"What are they?" asked Merry, sharing Éomer's saddle.

"Blaen get closer see if you can identify them" The King ordered.

The solider inclined his head and rode away.

***

Bravely Blaen rode away from the company at face the party which were tracking them. Nudging with his heels his horse broke into a speedily gallop and the plains raced below them. 

 The party in front of him were becoming clearer with each stride there were a large number of them. Several hundred of them he guessed. He squinted at them and pulled up the reins of his horse with slight fear. These were not men or elves, nor were they hobbits – they were dwarves! Were these the aid Elrond mentioned? Since when had the dwarves and elves patched up their differences? 

The disagreement between elves and dwarves were common knowledge, the two races never stopped bickered even to this day. But why then are these short, bearded creatures tailing the company? 

 The leader spotted him and began to shout and raved, his axe dancing between his fingers, others behind him were loading their hands with throwing axes.

Not wishing to anger them any further Blaen turned away and headed back to report his unusual find. 

***

Blaen began to explain his find while his horse blew hard from its hurried flee.

"There are dwarves My Lord" he said.

"Dwarves?" Éomer echoed, slightly bewildered. "How many?"

"Some hundred, sir"

"What did they do when they saw you?" Éomer asked.

"They became violent and gave chase"

Someone chuckled lightly beside them the Rohirrim solider and King turned upon their horses.

Elrond slipped in between them and stared at the dwarves in front of him. 

"Dwarves are headstrong creatures and will kill anything if you cannot give them a good reason why they shouldn't. But do not fear them; they are here by my doing. Glóin has bought with him quite a number I see.

"Glóin?" Merry quizzed, "Isn't he Gimli's father?"  

"That is correct; you met him in Rivendell when we held the council of the Ring eight years ago. He also journeyed with Bilbo to Mirkwood and to the Lonely Mountain" Elrond shifted his gaze to Merry who seemed to have brightened up slightly.

"Yet his age does not affect him?" Éomer said darkly.

"Dwarves can live for along time. It does not stop them when the prospect of war is at hand"

"This is rest of the aid you were speaking of, Master Elrond?" Blaen asked.

"Indeed it is, unless there are more Glóin did not tell me about"

The company rested the night allowing the dwarves how had been travelling night and day to catch them.

Elrond, Thranduil, Faramir and Éomer went into council with Glóin and a handful of dwarves.

The old dwarf listened hard to the stories the men and elves gave him and he added his own upon them.

"The mountain came alive with voices no one has ever heard before. Not even the Elders of the dwarf lords ever recorded the mountain actually speaking." The old dwarf said. "It spoke in an ancient tone I have never heard before. Though I could not understand much of its speech its tone and anger everyone could feel. The rocks are angry and fearful of Sauron, even more now that he has a physical form and has taken back the One Ring." The dwarf shook his head; his grey beard was thinning with age. "Never did I image this would come from Bilbo's Ring. If I knew Ring was the One Ring I would have stopped him and…" he voice trailed away.

"If any of us knew we would have acted, my friend" Elrond said softly. "But were all fooled until it was too late"

"Now my son is caught up in all this madness and evil. Do we have any idea of their whereabouts?" Glóin asked.

Elrond shook his head "We know nothing of the company that Gimli and Legolas were part of. But the likelihood of them still being alive is fading by every hour" he said sadly turning from Glóin to Thranduil. "For Aufstand to steal the Ring from the Ringbearer I fear she had killed more then just the once to take it"

Glóin turned his face upwards, tears glittered in his eyes. On his other side Thranduil looked shaken at this news also.

Elrond comforted them softly, "Nothing has been confirmed. They may yet still be alive somewhere in Mordor. Your sons are as stubborn as one another and will battle until the very end. If they still alive I'll bet they are doing all they can to help us." 

**Reviewers**

**Deana**: Excellent you say? Well I don't know about that but I do try! If I think its rubbish it doesn't stay, that is why sometimes it takes a long time to post anything up because I am not happy with it. The same thing goes with a handful of other stories I am trying to write at the same time, they are not up to scratch so they are not getting much attention at the moment. I remember saying to someone "I'll have the re-written end of Decisions of a King done soon I promise" – If only! That one has been giving me bighead aches every since. Every time I plan something out for it the while story seems to take on another light or grows stupidly long… Oh well, something will happen one day…

**Emma**: I am sorry to hear that you do not agree with my story. I am aware it is rather far fetched with the Ring still existing, Sauron being alive and whole etc. But you must remember this is only fiction! I know it sounds rather sad and depressing at the moment but things are going to get better to for the characters, and yes it will have a happy ending, all I have to do is finish it!

**Alida-Fruit**:: Yeah, my regular reviewer has come back to me! Seriously thanks for the review I don't really mind what size it is as it is the thought that matters! I have actually had fun writing most of this chapter, i.e. the men's reactions to the elves and such – and yes I know the ending battle in the previous chapter was rather good, and not very fair that I left it like I did. Things like that tended to happen on a whim and normally they turn out alright! But not when you are turning to juggle everything around it all. I just hope this chapter was up to your expectations, and yes you did read correctly there will be a happy ending – I promise! Though you properly cannot see it at the moment, nor will you when the ending comes…. Thanks for reviewing, look forward to hearing from you again.

**Authors note**: At the moment I am spending a lot of time away from home so therefore the writing is not being done. So consequently I haven't got a clue when the next chapter will be produced and posted but spending some time on a ferry nearly everyday may allow me to put pen to paper. 

Thank you for your kind words and to my silent readers, too.

Rosie 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 Exhausted beyond all measure Legolas and Gimli picked their way through the hostile, dark land of Mordor. Beneath them the rocks and stones spoke in anger and fearful tones.

Crouching behind an outcrop of rock Legolas and Gimli peered at the sight just below them. The orc army was indeed too large to count. A sea of black covered the ground.

"By the Valar" Gimli mouthed, "There is no way we can get past them without being seen!"

Legolas' bright mortal eyes watched the orc army keenly. Something was happening amongst the pointless struggles between the ranks they were being put into order.

Then something very un-orc-like appeared through the great black gates of Barad-dûr. Tall, and powerful looking, his face hidden by the full armour Sauron descended the bridge towards his army who had became strangely silent under his prescience.

Quickly Legolas pulled Gimli back and they hid from view.

He remembered Gandalf's words of movement and Gimli's confirmation that war was brewing. Was Sauron moving his army to the Black Gate to start this war? Was he going to invade the neighbouring countries and claim everything for Mordor?

They darned not to peer round the safety of the rocks in case they were spotted. But from where they were sat they could hear enough to make them worry even more then before. Drums and roars ripped through the air, the orcs were chanting something neither of them could understand and were banging their weapons upon the ground in a frenzy like the night long battle of Helm's Deep.

 The orc army was moving, the loud drum beat a quick march and the thudding of thousands of iron shod feet hammered the ground.

Gimli turned to Legolas: "This is our chance and about time we had some good luck! Once the army has gone we can find the others!"

"I don't think we will be able to march right up to the tower as easy as that" Legolas doubted.

"Don't you? Look for yourself"

Carefully and quickly Legolas peered around the rock and saw the army was leaving no one behind to guard the tower!

Swinging back Legolas asked, "What about Sauron?"

"Didn't you see him?" Gimli replied. "He's going with them. What ever they are about to do he wants to see it done and no doubt kill a few people himself" 

"For Sauron to go it must be very important to him. Invading neighbouring countries would not bring him out of his tower" Legolas said thoughtfully. 

"What would it be?" Gimli asked watching his friend think.

"What would draw you out of hiding?" Legolas asked back.

Gimli paused to think for a moment, "A threat. Only something I thought was a real danger"

"Exactly!" Legolas whispered, "Whatever is moving in the west has gripped Sauron's attention and set fear inside him otherwise he would not openly move like this."

"Aid maybe?"

"I would like to think so, but I cannot understand how such a large number could be raised to cause Sauron concern. Many lives were lost eight years ago, and a new army can not be remade in such a short time."

Gimli nodded thoughtfully. "That has to be the only reason, I cannot understand why else Sauron would leave the tower"

"Either way we cannot move now. We need to wait until the army has moved away, then we could try and sneak inside."

"How are we going to take back the Ring when Sauron has gone away?" Gimli said.

"I don't know, but we will cross that when we reach it"

Again the mass number of elves, men and dwarves were on the move again, heading eastwards. The number now reached over twelve thousand in total. It was far less then any leader would take into such a dark and dangerous place as Mordor, but the moral of the men was still high and the history of finding victory even when outnumbered was giving them courage. Though they were continuing to understand that they would properly not come out of this alive they still placed one foot in front of another for their families and loved ones. They wanted to give them the chance to live a 'free' life without war or strife. Marching to fight was the only way they could try and achieve this. They were not going lie down and let Sauron run over them, they were not going to allow Sauron to win without a struggle, without a fight to the death. They wanted to live, the people wanted to survive and together, moving as a mass this desire would push them into the thick of battle and face the evils that lie beyond Mordor's Black Gate.

  The landscape was changing around them by the hour; the once green plains of Ithilien were replaced by the broken and rocky toes of the mountains that made up Mordor's ominous boarders. Many years ago the Black Gate was built to keep the enemy contained but Sauron had re-designed them so his forces were kept inside and the enemy kept out.   

 Lord Elrond raised his eye line to the mountain peaks and recalled the Last Alliance's battle within the walls of Mordor, never again did he image he would tread there. Images danced across his mind and he saw this three children running and skipping about when they were very small and his wife laughing at their antics. Little Estel, one of the last of the Dúnedain blessed with long life was standing with a silent tear trickling down his face with one hand placed on his mothers grave. Two of Elrond's children rode behind the elven lord and his daughter remaining behind in Minas Tirith while Estel was lost somewhere.

 He had feared this form the start, now his family was separating spread across the plains of the world he feared some disaster, some fear would drive them further apart and into demise. But the affect was the opposite. The danger and fear of their future being lost was bringing them together and only by a very stern command did Arwen remain behind. She wanted to go and fight but Elrond did not wish to see his daughter torn apart if they discovered the body of her husband. She was of course aware that could be his fate but she still clung onto hope that he may yet be alive.

Beyond the mountains Sauron's army moved with speed. The army from the west were not the only ones heading towards the Gate. Sauron was heading directly towards them. 

A battle was unavoidable between the two sides and only hours away would it commence, and blood would be spilt once again for the Freedom of Middle-Earth.

  The drum beat of Sauron's army faded away and with all the energy and speed they could manage elf and dwarf tore towards the towering black tower in a dispirit bid to rescue their friends.

Unknown to them Sauron was drawing his sword against his foe in the Final Battle.

Aragorn stiffened and listened hard. Something was running in the corridors beyond his cell door, something distinctly not orc feet.

 There was a scuffle, a cry from outside his door and a heavy thud. 

Then voices.

"Quick get the keys!"

"I'm trying! Hold your horses!"

A knife cut through the air and a slightly distant thud followed it.

"Good throw"

Aragorn shot to his feet – a key was being inserted in the lock!

Nothing happened.

"Try another one"

Those voices were strangely familiar but Aragorn was could not be sure for imprisonment here could turn a man insane.

Again a key was inserted into the door and was turned. Once again the lock did not undo.

Someone sprinted away, and the keys were changed again.

"Come on you stinking thing!" the voice cursed. "Ah!"

The key turned in the lock and the mechanism slid into action.

Painstakingly slowly the heavy cell door opened and Aragorn looked upon the face of the one who had opened it, the keys still in the lock. The muscles in his face went into a fit of excitement and relief and he threw himself around his friend's neck.

"Alright, enough already" Gimli shoved him away slightly embarrassed. "Sam has already knocked me over"

"Sam? Where –?" Aragon didn't even finish his question when the answer cried his name.

"Strider you're alright! Oh thank goodness I was so worried" Sam beamed restraining himself from hugging the man. "Legolas has gone to free Gandalf"

Aragorn shook his head. He couldn't believe it, they were alive and free. Though he did not believe Aufstand's stories he was deeply concerned for the other company and he had begun to fear they had all been lost. But much to his delight he had been proved wrong.

"How did you two make it here? I feared you were lost" Aragorn spoke his thoughts.

"To be honest I am not entirely sure either, but I do not think here is a good place to talk. Sauron has taken an army to north, possibly to the Black Gate and he has gone with." The dwarf said.

"I heard them leaving" Sam said quietly. "If Sauron has gone too there is no way we can take back the Ring."

"That Master Samwise the not the most pressing of our problems" 

The small group turned and saw Gandalf and Legolas striding towards them.

"What is?" Aragorn asked the wizard.

"We must reach the Black Gate." Gandalf said. "There will be no victory without our aid. But first we must arm ourselves."  

"What is happening, Gandalf?" Sam asked, his brown eyes were wide with fear. "Are we going to have to fight?"

"Yes Sam, there is no other way" Gandalf said softly, "Elrond has raised men, elves and dwarves from near and far. They are heading to the Black Gate where Sauron will be waiting for them" the faces of the company had lost their sudden cheerfulness. "They need every last man possible. There is no way Elrond can win. Come, quick! Enough talk, make haste!" Gandalf pushed them.

The tower had been emptied save a few lazy guards who had helped themselves to the remains of food and drink. They posed no threat as the slept peacefully beside empty bottles and those who moved were instantly stilled. 

 No orc could wield Aragorn's great sword: Andúril, the Flame of the West made with the shards of Narsil and so the orcs had deserted it in a corner where it had become the source of much bickering. A similar fate had fallen Sting and Glamdring, Gandalf's sword they were elvish made, no orc would touch them and their blades glowed a pale blue. 

 Gandalf broke a spear shaft of its point and began to wave his fingers hypnotizing like arcos its round edges forging himself another staff. The plain wooden spear began to twist under his fingers, the roughly broken top spiralled and the end grew into a sphere. The small sphere shaped head glowed brighter while Gandalf began to chant some forgotten tongue his face taut with concentration. With a flash that filled the room the staff was complete. The once rough and crude looking spear had been turned white, its end delicately twisted and the sphere head had turned into solid glass which captured a small flickering flame.   

 Gandalf straighten himself with his freshly made staff and as he did the damage and dirt upon his person and cloths vanished. Sam caught Gandalf looking at him and he quickly closed his open mouth.

The White Wizard smiled; "I have healed your wearily bodies and souls and given new energy you each" he said. 

 The dwarf turned to Legolas who's freshly cut face and ear had dried over and was showing the signs of healing and to his own surprise he touched his scalp and found it now longer pained him. 

 The company hurriedly sharpened blades and forged arrows. Legolas briefly entertained Sam when he pulled out some his own elven hair and re- strung his bow.

"It won't have the power it had before" he said testing the string. "I had to tie the strands of hair together to make it long enough. It not as strong as I would like, but it will have to do"

"Do elves always use their own hair?" Sam asked, "I thought bows strings were made of horse hair".

"Horse hair does make good strings, but elven hair is stronger which give the long range" Legolas replied, "Beside I believe horses shouldn't have their hair removed on our behalf"

At the foot of the Black Gates the armies of the West paused, their number swelling around them. Horses pawed the ground and the mass army stood with a sense of unease. The atmosphere was electrifying, yet nothing stirred.

 Éomer turned to Faramir, the Rohirrim's brow frowned. "Something is wrong" he whispered, his eyes travelling the length of the Gate. 

Faramir followed his gaze and felt the uneasy sense growing. Beside them Elrond watched the gates intently, hardly blinking. The Steward watched him for several moments before realising a large number of the elves behind them were also watching the Gate with unblinking eyes. Then one by one the elves drew their swords with long, elegant sweeping movements. Their curled blades shone brightly in the twilight and their oval shields were raised into a fighting position.

 Then, before their very eyes the Gate smoothly and silently began to open.

Men; elves and dwarves drew their weapons and the army of Mordor flooded out to greet them with frightening speed, the liquid in their glass weapons swirling, eager to snatch away the immortal lives of the remaining elves..

 But something had gripped then leaders of Man, Elf, and Dwarf; they seemed momentarily to grow, their years of warrior judgement and courage made them stare into the mad eyes of their foes and still remain calm. 

Drawing his sword Faramir took a deep steadily breath and cried with all his heart, "For Freedom!" 

 The armies of the West leapt forward running fast, screaming and shouting; with the sound of crashing metal upon metal the front lines of Orc and Men clashed cutting one another down.

The Last War had begun. 

"Quickly, we must hurry!" Gandalf panted as the small party ran across the dark land of Mordor. Gandalf lead the way bravely, followed by Aragorn then Legolas and behind him came Gimli and Sam.

Sam ran for all he was worth, the need to reach the Gate was desperate but unless he was carried there would be no way he would be able to keep up with Gandalf and Aragorn in the lead. Just in front of him he could hear Gimli breathing heavily and Sam focused himself to keep up with the dwarf instead, at least then he would have some company.

"Come on laddie keep up" Gimli panted half turning.

Somewhere in the distance the sounds of battle reached their ears.

"Let's hope we won't arrive too late" the dwarf muttered, just loud enough for Sam to hear. He could have sworn he saw a strange glint in his eyes.

"I'm not having a pointy ear out scoring me!"

Fighting for family and freedom drove the armies from the West into a frenzy as they battled through the enemy. Mordor had easily twice their number, orcs, trolls and wargs fighting sword, spear, tooth and claw. 

 Thrown from their horse Éomer and Merry fought closely to one another, the hobbits obviously height disadvantage did not stop him injuring or killing anything that veered towards him. Through the onslaught he could not see Pippin or Faramir and with each blow he threw he hoped they would live through this death and bloodshed, somehow. 

 Weariness and exhaustion had not yet taken their toll upon the armies from the West, the Dwarves still fought with the same fiery aggressions as they did from the beginning, the Elves were still as fast and sharp as ever. Even one who appeared tired could still dispatch their enemy with ease. The mortal Elves were fighting as hard as their Elven brothers and sisters still without showing sighs of exhaustion, and more where joining them. Set several feet back Erbschaft ordered a steady stream of arrows upon the orcs that flooded from the Gate mouth ahead of the battle. In between the strokes of swords and flying arrows the shrinking number of Rohirrim riders charged through the orc army.

 Elrond paused in his fight and gazed around himself, scowling at the young faces of the men who had also looked around themselves. The number of orcs was diminishing and the obviously joy and hope of victory was entering many minds. 

But Elrond knew Sauron had not yet finished, for they had not yet blessed them with his prescience.

"Victory!" someone cried amongst the battle as suddenly the orc army turned tail running back to the Black Gate. 

From the rear of the battle Erbschaft paused in his steady command and surveyed the situation. "Notch those strings!" he ordered sharply, "This is not over yet."

The cheering amongst the fool hearted army suddenly feel silent and the icicles of fear dropped upon every member.

Over the mass of chattering foes in the mouth of the Gate stood something much larger, threatening and far, far more frightening.

Sauron lead his army steadily towards them, the Ring of Power firmly around his finger.

The army of the West took an involuntary step backwards, their faces slack with fear, their skin pale, their eyes wide, and their mouths hanging open, gleaming with blood sweat and the strange mortal taking liquid that had splashed many, soaking the ground beneath their feet.

Only Elrond and Erbschaft remained focused and their shouts seemed to stir the company from as if they had been frozen by a spell.

"Arches, fire!" Erbschaft gave the command and with hesitation the strings were loosed. Behind her bow Nymane's hands trembled as she took aim. Her eyes caught the steady, fearless and strong face of her husband, and with a deep steady breath she took her courage from him and fired.   

 Elrond snapped orders both in elvish and common tongue which seemed to wake the Men and Dwarves as well as the elves from their frightened state.   

"Reform the line! Reform the line!" he cried. The small remaining numbers of horses lined in front followed by the lines of Men, Elves and Dwarves. Merry and Pippin slipped in beside Glóin and his warriors and in front they could see Éomer and Faramir.  

The old dwarf turned to the hobbits "This is it, my friends. I wish to fight by your side as strongly and as protectively as my son would have done".

Merry shook his head, "Do not worry yourself with us. You have your own battle to fight" he said.

The remaining horse leaped forward, their coats sweated with fear but they did not lead their riders astray. Nimbly they dodged around the battle field, cutting down as many as they could. But with wide, sweeping strokes of his mace Sauron sent man and horse scattering into the air with a deadly force that would shatter bone instantly.

 The remaining lines of Western fighters swallowed hard in horror witnessing men and horses flying in all directions. But still the held their ground and gripped their blades with vice like grips. And with his face set Elrond led the armies of the West towards the advancing number without fear or doubt. Obediently the Western army followed wearing their hearts upon their sleeves and their loved ones upon their minds.

The orcs broke ranks and rushed around their leader eagerly driven by Bloodlust. Sauron let them hurry to their deaths, his cold eyes watching the familiar face of Elrond fighting his way through the first line of orcs beating his forces with their crude weapons.

Rotating his wrist hidden under the metal gauntlets the mace head touched the ground gently turning upon its spikes and with a large powerful stride and a stroke with his arm three of what could only be few of the remaining elves flew into the air, falling upon others behind them. Two dwarves were sent head over heels with his backhand and four men were crushed under a heavy blow Sauron dealt.

Pippin came to a dead halt just as a fallen dwarf fell across his path. Adrenaline was still pumping through him but he could feel it beginning to fade as he watched Sauron advance ever closer clearing a path as he went. He was filled with terror he had never felt before; even when the Nazgúl flew over Minas Tirith and the city was being over run.

But over the dim and screams of battle he heard something very different and it uplifting. It was the sound he associated with Gandalf and hope:

An Eagle cry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The overpowering sense of lost hope and depression that had begun to settle upon the company of the West soared away when the first sound of the Eagle cry filled the air. The great Golden Brown Eagles dived and swooped upon the host, pecking and ripping with beaks and talons. Some would soar high into the sky with one or two orcs dangling beneath the feathered body and with a cry the long clawed talons would open and the orcs would fall to their deaths many feet below, broken and twisted upon the rocks.

 The arrival of the eagles caused Sauron to pause in his battle. He knew what this meat, he turned and saw them approaching, their voices lost in the commotion of battle.

 A bizarre group they made, a Man, a Wizard, an Elf, a Dwarf and a Hobbit forcing their way through the cowardly number of creatures that had begun to retreat from the thickest of battle. 

It sent shivers down the normally unruffled spine of Sauron, the sword that bought his downfall rose and fell with all the power and destruction he could recall. He was not going to allow the last and broken line of Kings ruin him once more. 

 Tightening his grip upon his mace the bulky figure of Sauron turned his back upon the army of the West and hurried to greet the new threat that ha emerged out of his own land. He cursed himself for not swatting the Elf and Dwarf earlier, now he may pay for it.

 Elrond snapped his head around at the sound of the new arrivals of Aragorn, Gandalf, Sam, Legolas and Gimli and did something he had not done properly for many months. He smiled. 

But his joy did not long. Sauron was on the move – moving towards them in long purposeful strides, his shoulders square and his body rigid. Then he understood as his eyes caught the violent movement of battle beyond Sauron's bulk. Aragorn's sword forged with the Shards of Nasal and Aragorn himself, Isildur's heir, last of the Dúnedains. Sauron did not want history to repeat itself. He was fearful of Aragorn, of what he had become and what he wielded. 

 Elrond broke into a fast run, every strand of his mind and body focused. He knew what he must do – he must reach Sauron before he reached Aragorn. Like a father protecting his son, but this was far more serious then just love. It was the life of the future that was at stake.

He was here on the battlefield because of his love for Estel, his adopted son which he had protected and bought up like his own. He was rushing to confront the darkest enemy of all time for Estel, for his life and the people he loved and fought for.

Elrond had seen Estel's death, and he had to interfere and give his Hope life.

To give the world Hope.

If it were not for the determined and lionhearted friends around him Sam would have stopped dead at the sight that met his eyes. Carnage was the only way to describe it. Men, Orcs, Elves, Dwarves, Eagles, Wargs and Trolls – everything mixed into one each fighting desperately hard.

But the sight that filled with the most fear was the large form of Sauron he had just witnessed sending Men and Elves flying through the air as if they were just leaves caught up in a strong wind. But he found himself going along with the pace of the others beside him and strangely he felt protected and at ease. He didn't have time to think or pause as he stroked Sting fatally upon the creatures that stood in his path. This was the Final War and on the behalf of all Hobbits and Halflings he fought on as strongly as any solider would do. 

This was more then just a matter of life and death; this was about domination, existence, love, power and freedom. Freedom from a dark and terrorizing future where hope would not reach them, where the sun would never rise and the sound of laughter would be only a memory. A life without greenery and laughter, no hope and joy was not worth living for Sam thought. He might as well die trying to stop that becoming then to live with the depressing and bleak future under the evil watch of Sauron. 

The once snarling sounds of the orc host were screeching in fear and running blindly. In front of them stood the army of the West still fighting strongly even after everything had been thrown at them, above the Eagles swooped and soared, their path of retreat was now blocked by the strange party of Man, Elf, Dwarf and Hobbit driven into a frenzy. They were trapped with no escape but to accept their own death. 

 The once organized and confident host army were disorientated and petrified, the only one that had kept a cool head was the powerful and frightening bulk of Sauron.

The sheer size of Sauron alone was enough to make any living thing turn and run or freeze in fear. But Sauron did not have that affect on Aragorn and his company nor Elrond who ran full pace to catch him. The King of Gondor turned his attention to the enemy his ancestors had feared and felt strangely calm. He raised his sword to his shoulder height taunting Sauron with the weapon that ruined him before, and Sauron mirrored him with his mace holding it his shoulder height some way above Aragorn's head. 

The two were about to exchange blows in what could have been a very short battle when something with lightening speeds intercepted. 

With all the might his wearily body could produce Elrond threw his weight and power behind his elven blade and with a jarring blow broke the mace of Sauron in two.

 Slowly it seemed the towering metal head of Sauron turned and looked at the elf that out of nowhere had disabled his weapon. Recognition flickered across his mind and savagely lashed out at Elrond with the stub of his weapon knocking him sprawling to the ground.  

Instantly Aragorn leapt after them anger and fear mingled into one for his foster father but a sudden tide of fleeing enemies pulled him further away, the unbroken line kept him at bay. His frustrated cries and desperate attempts to break through the line failed. He looked round himself for the familiar faces of Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Faramir or Éomer but found none. A knot tightly formed in his gut.

Elrond was totally alone, and was about to die.

The blow knocked the air out of him and he lay still for a second trying to gain his breath, his chest inflating painfully. Elrond tasted blood but bravely stood again to accept more pain as Sauron stepped towards him. Gripping his curved sword in a vice like grip Elrond stared ahead without fear, nor did he flinch when the large bulk of Sauron raised a metal fist and beat him cruelly. 

 Pushing himself from the ground once more Elrond raised his long sword with a steady hand and quickly flashed the blade before his enemy, his blows bounced weakly off the thick, heavy armour of his foe. With a powerful blow with the handle of his metal mace Sauron bought a heavy hand across his body and with a gentle tinkle Elrond's blade shattered leaving only the hilt remaining in his hand.  

 Not in the slightest bit ruffled Elrond threw the hilt where it ricocheted off Sauron's horse head shaped helmet and he slipped his hands behind his back freeing the pair of lightweight knives he always kept for desperate measures. Sauron took a step forward and raised his mace to sweep it in the face of the Elven Lord, but he was faster and nimbly ducked underneath Sauron's extended arm and slipped behind him, his knives nicking the thick armour hunting for weak points. Sauron snapped round, twisting at the waist and dealt a blow. Instantly Elrond crumpled but caught himself before he fell completely, a sharp strong kick to the gut put him down. Again the metal foot of Sauron drove into his tightly curled body.

 Aragorn's hoarse cries reflected the pain Elrond must have been in but he held onto his pride and did not let his agony show by keeping his lips firmly closed even under the beatings from his foe. Finally the kicking stopped and Elrond slowly rose to his feet, beaten and bloody. 

 The mace staff came down quickly but Elrond dug deep and pared the blow, ducked beneath Sauron's long, heavy arms and rammed his small blades into a chink in the armour that suddenly showed when Sauron moved. The gap in between the plates where chest plate met the armour if his upper body. Sauron stumbled backwards his jaw clenched with pain and swept his arms across his metal body which shone with spilt blood. Wearily Elrond ducked the mad flying arms but felt himself becoming drained with each passing moment. A lapse in concentration ended the duel between him and Sauron. A hard armoured arm smacked into the side of his head painfully hard. Immediately his senses began to spin out of control and darkness swallowed him, the ground leapt up to embrace him hungrily.   

An agonizing roar ripped from Aragorn's throat as he watched helplessly as Elrond fell and remained still, unmoving upon the battlefield. He felt his blood boil and his skin burn with pure hatred as his eyes turned to Sauron, his armour strained with blood. Bloodlust began to cloud his vision and his judgement, fuelled with explosive anger and energy he barged through the thinning line of retreating enemies on a direct, one way line to Sauron. The enemy of the Free People of Middle-Earth, the one his foster father had died trying to save him from.

 Aragorn's agonizing cries went fell upon every set of ears on the battlefield. Thranduil spun upon his heel in the direction of the pained cry and felt tears form in his blue eyes. A blur passed him and he threw out his arms to catch his flying son. His arms connected and he battled to hold the fiery aggression and deep set love for his friend that urged his son into a battle that was way above him

"No, Legolas!" Thranduil panted, "It is not your battle, please be still"" he pleaded. The strength of his once broken son was unbelievable.

"No, I have to help him!" Legolas protested both in voice and in strength, "I must he needs me!"

"He does not need his friends to suffer the same fate as the ones before him!" Thranduil dug his heels into the soil to keep himself from being dragged away. "This has to happen, it is fate. They must battle unhindered!"

"No, no! I won't let him die alone, I must help him!"

"Legolas please! Stay; there is nothing you can do!" Thranduil felt his grip begging to slip and he knew if he did not hold on his son would die. "No, stay, don't, no Legolas, please!" he pleaded.

Legolas roared and increased his struggles as ahead of him the pair began to exchange blows, but Thranduil's grip held him at bay: "Estel!" he screamed.

Sauron's first blow soared over Aragorn's head as he ducked, the pair were determined to out do the other and live. Sauron: to end the forever haunting loss to Isildur and for total domination. Aragorn: for revenge for the death of Elrond and for the Free People. 

 His sword scraped the armour and skidded away. Spinning round Sauron clubbed Aragorn upon the shoulder.

A distinct _crack_ reached his ears followed by a painful gasp uttered from Aragorn's lips. The man stumbled for several paces feeling strangely lopsided and the grip on his sword was slipping. The long hilt and heavy blade needed both hands to pare and fight properly even with gritted teeth and all his willpower he could not make his left hand respond. 

Again the hand of Sauron rose and fell and as Elrond before him, the ground seemed to leap up and grasp him.

Above the dim of battle and the thumbing of his heat within his ears he heard Legolas' pained scream of his name. And through the dullness that was creeping into his mind Aragorn rolled over onto his back as Sauron towered over him his hands reached to crush him. Instantly his hand groped for his sword but it was just out of fingers reach. No amount of stretching or praying would bring his hand any closer, cruelly the very tips of his fingers lightly touched the rounded hilt and it slipped further away from his grasp.

 The metal gloved hands fell upon his tired body and pulled him from the ground, further away from his blade and salvation. The strong fingers tightened a torturing grip, one hand around his throat causing him to gasp and splutter the other crushing his sword arm painfully.

Darkness crept into his vision and the once desperate and paining cries of his fiends were fading as he struggled to breath. He was dying; this was the end he thought dimly. 

Like a serious of paintings his life flashed before his eyes: the earliest memory of his father, his arrival in Rivendell, the death of his mother, Elrond telling him of his ancestors, his first meeting with the Mirkwood Elves, the first kiss he and Arwen shared, the long and arduous journeys he made as a Ranger, the first meeting with Gandalf. The fight on the Weathertop; the Ring around Frodo's neck, his own crowing ceremony, and then the Final Battle flickered before him. 

Exhausted beyond all reckoning he dimly allowed himself to drift away, to accept death. But then a familiar face filled his mind, one he did not want to leave behind. 

  Across the miles between Minas Tirith and the Black Gate of Mordor Arwen's voice travelled strong and true like an arrow from a bow. Her sweet voice carried on the wind and fell upon the ears of all those across the world. Her words bought comfort to those crying and fearful children being comforted by their mothers, to those who where too sick and weak to fight, to those upon the verge of death, and to those upon the battlefield at Mordor. 

 Through the cloudy sky sun beams broke through and fell around her enhancing her words and her message which fell upon the innocent.

Her lips did not move, but her eyes shone and her heart bleed out her compassion, love and bravery: "Though all seems lost in this hour of darkness, Hope shall not fail us." She said, "By the power of the Valar the evil will be overthrown. The blade that was once Broken shall sing again." 

_"The blade that was once Broken shall sing again"_ Arwen's words bought his fading mind back into sharp focus again. He felt himself falling, the fatal grip around his neck and arm missing.

Opening his eyes in the dazzling light he shielded them with his bruised but usable arm. The overcast sky had been broken by the powerful grace of the Sun. Sauron and his creatures stood rooted to the spot blinded by the light, their arms wrapped about their heads trying to black out the suns light from their eyes.

Suddenly Aragorn knew what he must do.

He lunged for Andúril, the Flame of the West and swung the long blade towards his enemy as Isildur had done before him.

History was being repeated.

Finally Thranduil's grip on his fighting son fell away and Legolas ran to his friends' side. Above the clouds were breaking and the sun's beams were falling upon the dirt and blood streaked tired faces of the armies from the West. 

The enemy had fled deep into the land of Mordor, its Gate stood deserted and open.

Tears fell steadily from Aragorn's eyes as he cradled Elrond's limp from in his own. A crowd gathered around him, his closest friends and step brothers knelt alongside, their faces grave and their eyes moist with unshed tears.

 Though the armies from the West gained victory it had come at a very high price, many lives had been lost, and the most sobering death was that of Elrond's. He was the one who bought them all together to stand up and fight for the Free People, for their families and loved ones. Yet they lived and he had died. His death signalled the end of his race for the direct years afterwards the harbours were filled with vessels heading West. Filled with those who had lived through the battle and who had chosen to sail away from grief and pain to live an eternal and blissful life across the Sea.   

After several minuets of weeping Aragorn rose and faced the crowd that surrounded him. His step brothers could see a change in him, they guessed the death of Elrond had unseated something within him, but then they caught the strange glitter in his eyes. He was set upon something, determined and focused.

Only when Gandalf moved aside could the crowd see the smouldering ring finger of Sauron lying between Andúril and Sauron's helmet. The crowd watched with held breath as Aragorn lifted the disintegrated finger in his hands leaving behind the Ring of Power upon his palm. The weight of the Ring was easing as its Master had passed away, but its strong and tempting whispers still remained. The glowering engraving began to fade upon the band and Ring began shrink to a size that would fit his fingers comfortably as if tempting him further.   

Aragorn raised his head, "I know what I must do" he said. He also knew how difficult it would be for him as the weakness was already there in his blood, but he had to fight it. He had no choice.

Gandalf stepped forward his eyes watching Aragorn closely: "This is your test, every path you have trodden trough wilderness, through war has lead to this road"

Aragorn straightened himself, "I do not know what strength is in my blood but I will not allow myself to fall into the same trap as Isildur" he said.

Legolas stood beside him, "I will help you carry this burden" he said before anyone could stop him. 

Aragorn turned to him and smiled, "I thank you my friend"

"I too will go with you Strider" Sam stood, "For I wish to see the end of this all"

Again Aragorn smiled and he gently ruffled the hobbits hair. "I will need your directions Sam. I have never trodden path so deep into Mordor, nor do I wish to again."

Instantly both Merry and Pippin leap into loud arguments commanding that they should also accompany them, but Gandalf waved a hand over them: "You two have had quite enough adventure and troubles for the moment" he said half finishing his sentence when he caught the glint in Gimli's eye, "And to you master dwarf I'd advise you do not go into Mordor either" 

Gimli turned a sympatric face towards the wizard. "I owe you all my respect for a life time for what you have done, but I cannot let you go in your present state." Gandalf said very gently, his eyes trailing down the dwarf's blood streaked body and wearily face. "Your path runs alongside Legolas' for many years I am sure, but not for the moment, Gimli, my friend"

Admitting defeat Gimli finally stepped down and silently exchanged best wishes with envious glares towards Aragorn, Legolas and Sam.

 Of course there are dangers with taking friends into hostile lands, though he did not say them. One was that they would encounter the enemy on a large scale and fall before they could even reach the mountain. Secondly, the others may be drawn to the power of the Ring and one by one they would fall under. The Ring would be desperate as it neared its place making, and would fight as hard as it possible could. With Legolas being mortal he would find it difficult to disregard the Rings beckoning's and Sam also as he had carried the Ring this far may suffer from some sort of withdrawal symptoms, but no one else would have the courage to join him. 

Gandalf moved closer and placed a gentle hand upon Aragorn's shoulder: "The Ring will challenge you with every step you take. It will fight strongly as you near the mountain. It will call all evil to it to save it from its fate. Are you ready to take such a quest, my friend?" he asked.

Aragorn nodded, "I am ready. It is time for me to face my destiny one last time."

"The Ring will play with the minds of all three of you" Gandalf continued his eyes falling upon Legolas and Sam, "Be extra vigilant in your journey and good luck to you all"

Gwaihir the Windlord and Landroval his brother, greatest of all the Eagles of the North offered to fly the trio into the dark country over the enemy and set them down upon the mountain but Aragorn turned down their invitation. 

"It would be all too tempting to fly away into the horizon never to come back" he said, "I thank you for your offer my comrades but you have already done more then we could have asked of you" he bowed his head. 

They fluttered their brown feathers and replied; "You are indeed a noble man Elessar. May good fortune grace your path and give you a long, blissful life as King of Gondor" they said. "Farewell my friends, may we met again in happier times I hope" 

With the remaining Eagles just behind them Gwaihir and Landroval spread their wings and took flight into the sky. They soared overhead several times, screeched farewells before turning north and vanishing out of sight.

As Aragorn, Sam and Legolas moved away towards the broken Black Gate guilt set in onto the remaining company as they watched them walk away. Only his closet friends who had been through more then anyone could ever imagine had volunteered go with him, once again on a dangerous quest. Faramir watched his King and friend walk away, his heart feeling heavy with guilt. Aragorn, who had been through so much had to carry on, exhausted and battered while he did nothing but watch. He couldn't even help his King when he was broken and exhausted. He felt dirty, useless and called himself a coward under his breath as the company turned their back upon man, elf and hobbit as they retreated to the comfort of Minas Tirith.

 The hairs on back of Éomer's neck tingled strangely as he rode away with the remaining company. He felt uneasy about leaving Aragorn, Sam and Legolas alone again in the dark and dangerous land to fight for themselves doing the near impossible. Each pace led him further away from the King of Gondor the more he began to fear for his safety. 

Their journey would not be easy and uneventful he was sure.        

**AN**: A short chapter compared to some of my others but there is a lot for you all to take in. What do you think? Is it too far fetched? Am I too mean to the characters? All responses are loved and taken seriously.

 And just to say sorry I've given you the next chapter too! I really should have updated along time ago…

**Ringmarciel**: Yes… ummm update – sorry! But thank you for telling me you liked my work I just feel ashamed that I haven't updated sooner…


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The adrenaline of battle was fading quickly as the two parties went their separate ways. One further east the other towards the west. Instead it was replaced by concern, exhaustion and loneliness. 

 The day slipped away, night began to spread across the sky and the temperature began to fall. Shivering in their cloaks Aragorn, Legolas and Sam halted for the night and huddled together. They had agreed it was still to dangerous to light a fire despite the nights cold fingers that tickled their skin through their clothing. But after sharing several pieces of food one by one the company began to fall asleep. Even the watchful eyes of the watchmen began to droop with wariness. 

Sam had drawn first watch that night and as he gazed around himself he found his eyes drawn to Aragorn as he slept.  Was it out of fascination? Or was it the early withdrawal symptom?

He could not answer honestly. "I'm just concerned over a friend, that's all." He whispered quietly, "Nothing more." He wanted to convince himself that it was nothing more then just plain concern and care, but somewhere in the depths of his mind a small voice told him otherwise. 

He knew exactly what it was like to bear the Ring. What it was like to watch another fade away. 

The movements when Frodo was not himself when he carried the Ring could still make him tremble with fear. It was frightening to see his friend and master become delusional and crazed. The Ring was truly evil and bought only ill-luck to those who carried it forcing greed filled enemies upon them to make the path more difficult and dangerous then already before. In Moria they believed the Ringbearer to be lost in battle in the tomb of Balin, then Gandalf fell followed by Boromir and the capture of Merry and Pippin. Events began to happen in a chain reaction due to the Ring; armies of darkness were moving and gathering in the east, shadows were gathering and the people were rioting. 

In the stillness of the night he chewed over the chances of Aragorn remaining as strong as his words but secretly Sam doubted he would not be able to follow them to the letter without stumbling. The Ring was treacherous and its final stages of its journey it would fight madly against the bearer. As he gazed at Aragorn's still peaceful sleeping form Sam began to pity him as he would soon under go the changes that the bearers before had gone through changing them forever. The friend he knew was going to die, to be replaced by something unnatural always living as if something was missing within him. 

 Their chances of success were thinning by each passing moment Sam began to realise. If the enemy came back… they would stand no chance, yet the Rohirrim, the Gondorians and Gandalf had let them go alone. Did he know something they did not? The Ring would put the three of them against each other, Sam was sure. Twisting and testing their minds into conflict with one another. The journey in their already exhausted state was asking a lot of them, but to keep vigilant and mentally sharp against the Ring was asking too much from their battered and near broken bodies.

 Alone in the darkness Sam began to fear the path ahead, fearing Aragorn would crumple under the burden or the enemy would return… but then what? What would happen to the Ring? Sauron could not be reborn to reclaim his jewel this early. Would it forever pass from person to person until the time was right for Sauron to rise again? Or would it vanish from all memory and sight, only to be re discovered in the next Age? 

 The prospect of history reciting itself again was not an idea Sam wanted to repeat. Already the people and the soil had seen too much bloodshed over the Ring, any more should be avoided. 

 Slowly with many unanswered questions passing through his mind Sam' post ended and with unwillingly woke Legolas for the next watch before falling asleep with dead exhaustion. 

Sam woke shivering in his blanket with the sun's head just rising over the horizon. Something moved beside him followed by a faint crack and a muted groan. Slightly alarmed Sam rolled over and raised himself onto his elbows watching the silhouette move again. The middle built shape of Aragorn stretching and testing his suspected broken shoulder soothed him slightly but could not make him sleep again. Slowly and rather sorry filled Sam crawled out from underneath his blanket and sat beside Aragorn. 

 The King tilted his head towards the hobbit handing him his water skin in silence. Drinking deeply Sam watched the sun creep over the horizon, "Seems strange that the sun rises here as if does in the Shire. Yet the two places are very opposite" he said.

Aragorn noticed the hidden message, "I'm sure they are just waiting to throw a party for you, Merry and Pippin when you go back" he said gently. "And Rose will be there to greet you" 

A smile played across Sam' face, but it faded quickly when something caught his eye. Something shone upon Aragorn's breast caught in the rise sunlight. Only when he turned his head a fraction did he realise what it was and a shiver rippled down his spine.

The Ring lay, presented upon Aragorn's breast for all to see.

"I am very grateful of your company Sam" Aragorn said not noticing Sam's gaze, "No one else would have the courage to go other then you, Legolas or maybe Merry, Pippin or Gimli. No one else would understand."

Sam nodded, "They have not seen what could happen, where we have."  
"It takes great courage to be this close to something that could easily destroy everything we know. Yet so many people see it as a toy or a tool, but it can only do evil" Aragorn shook his head slowly thinking of Boromir, son of Denethor the late Steward of Gondor. The Ring had driven Boromir mad to the point where he was a threat to the Ring bearer's life. But heroically Boromir reclaimed himself and died defending the company like he would have wanted. And for that they honoured him.

"But I don't want to be like them, Sam" Aragorn turned to him, "I want to be strong enough to bear this burden on the final path. I don't want to stumble and fall along the way like others before have. I feel it's my duty to take this and beat the past"

Sam slid closer and stared into Aragorn's face, "Hold onto that, what ever you do. Don't let go of that dream, if you do things will begin to slip away along with your self control." He said seriously. "That was the only reason why when I carried the Ring when I thought Frodo was dead in Mordor I was able to remain myself. Because I was able to hold onto my love for the Shire and the dream returning there to live a normal life again, it stopped me for falling apart."

In the dull morning light Aragorn's eyes sparkled with new respect and he smiled politely, "I will Sam, I will do"

Over the barren rock pitted land the trio trod, footsore and weary. Hours slipped away, their eyes focused upon the mountain that did not appear to be any closer no matter how far they travelled. The uneventful hikes were dull, over the same non-stimulating ground that seemed to stretch on for miles. The only thing that kept their sprits up was the thoughts and conversations of home and happier times.

Sam explained to Legolas and Aragorn of the battle of Bywater and how the countryside was recovering from the death and decease Saruman cursed them with: "After Saruman fell everyone felt the instant change in the air, his words were as chilling and the breeze when it blew moaned as if it were spilling its own tears. Most of the other hobbits were in tears or could not understand the situation," Sam said, "But Mr Frodo; he just seemed to take it all in his stride. Of course he was upset and disappointed more so in Saruman' cruelty then anything else and that the final blow of the war had come to the Shire. Everything was burnt out and ruined, everything that was once green and bright was gone, the trees had been cut down, the clear rivers were black with pollution and the once clean air was thick with smoke." Sam shook his head sadly, "But the very next morning we began to start all over again, by pulling down the horrid buildings Saruman had ordered to be put up and many new plants were being planted. 

"I was in charge of the gardening and when we were starting out I discovered my present from Lady Galderial. It occurred to me suddenly that I didn't even know what it was as the Lady had said to me: _"It will not keep you on your road, nor defend you against any peril; but if you keep it and see your home again at last, then perhaps it may reward you." _ And so I opened the little box she bestowed me and inside was a rich, dark, dry sample of soil" Sam paused and turned his gaze to his companions walking slowly so he could keep up. A strange look had appeared in their eyes as Sam spoke of the Lady of the Wood so warmly and gently. Behind their distant look Sam could see unshed tears grieving for the loss of the Lady and Lord of the woods and their people. 

"Each plant I oversaw being placed into the soil I sprinkled several grains over their roots and did not think of it again." Sam continued, "Then Spring and Summer came, and oh my! The young plants had grown and bloomed beyond my wildest dreams, the words of the Lady were indeed true, and by Winter the Shire looked like the woods of Lothlórien shimmering beautifully in the morning drew and frosts."   

At last Legolas found his voice: "You should treasure your home and countryside Sam," he said, "For none can every see, only recall the beauty Lothlórien possessed year long. Take great care and pleasure with your passion and may it continue to blossom and bloom for many years to come, shinning with the lost sprit of the elves of the Golden Wood."

Aragorn nodded slightly, "The Lady would have been proud of what the Shire has now become. I hope one day I can journey there and see it for myself"

Sam smiled and inclined his head polity "Of course you will and you will be most welcome, my friends"

 Returning his gaze to the front Sam continued to smile imagining Aragorn's arrival in the Shire, to be showered with petals and cheers, horns blowing in the clear air and banners waving. In the crowd he could see himself with one arm around Rose's shoulder and the other cupped in the hand of one of his children. 

Yes, he thought. That would be the way of it. 

Night was the most dangerous time of all. The changes of an ambush were far greater in the dark, the desert like temperatures would fall to near freezing and dead tired the company would battle to stay awake on watch. But far more dangerous then any mortal battle was the battle for Aragorn' mind and control, alone, tired and cold he was valuable to the Ring's every present callings.

 Its surface was comfortingly warm, tempting him to embrace the jewel so it could work its way through his defences. Slowly night after night he found himself becoming more aware of the Ring's temptation and only be recalling his promise he made to his men and to Sam could he restrain himself from embracing the deadly jewel. 

He was starting to fall apart.  

Turning to his sleeping friends he knew he could not risk telling them the truth nor give up the Ring to one of them. This was _his_ task, his test, his –

Aragorn tensed suddenly and stared down at the chain around his neck and felt ice slipping down his insides. The words nearly slipped out of his mouth. Turning stubbornly away he denied he had even close to saying it, to embracing it.

No, he thought. I am strong enough to not allow this to happen. I am strong and I will conquer this. 

_"Aragorn… Aragorn" _the Ring called his name, "_You lie, you cannot win. You will not win"_

Fearfully he turned to see if the other had heard any of this. But they slept on, undisturbed.

Turning back again he lowered his eyes again to the Ring and quickly shot to his feet as if he had been burnt and looked at his hands in disgusted.

They had been grasping the Ring… 

He was losing the battle for his mind.

On their path returning West the party of Men, Elves and Dwarves travelled in a convoy, tried but somehow lifted from the battle. They had bested the greatest threat in an Age, the threat of forever darkness and the personal threat on their friends and family was over. In a drunken state they moved westwards, a grin plastered upon their weary faces and their hearts light.

 Only a handful was not sharing their joy. 

At the front of the line Faramir, Éomer, Gandalf, Thranduil, walked followed by Gimli, Merry and Pippin each feeling heavy with guilt and anxious for their friends they had left behind to tread the final steps of the journey alone and in the most hostile position they could be in, carrying the greatest threat of all time.    

Merry gently rubbed Pippin's shoulder, "Don't worry Pip, Strider and the others will be all right. They'll strong enough to cope with what ever is out there" he said softy.

Pippin nodded, "I know. But I can't help but wonder and worry about them"

"They'll come back Pip, I know they will"

Under his breath Faramir turned to Gandalf and asked him, "Will they, Mirthrandir? Will they come back alive?"

The wizard shook his head slightly, "Who knows. I can not see into the future that is still clouded in doubt and mystery," he said, "Mordor is still filled with many dangers. I cannot tell what the outcome maybe"

"Aragorn is strong as the halflings say; do you not have any confidence in Gondor's King?" Faramir asked.

"Aragorn has proved he has the strength above all I have ever seen in battle. But this is a completely different fight. It is a battle for his mind and soul against the most slippery and fiendish enemy. Who will win, I cannot tell" Gandalf sighed, "Yes Aragorn is strong and I have confidence in him, but… no matter how much we believe in him it makes little difference. This is his personal battle in which none of us can understand nor interrupt." 

  "I know how the Ring works after finding myself in a position where I could have simply taken it from Frodo. I know how hard it is to battle such a strong urge to take hold of the all the power you have ever dreamed of." Faramir spoke personally and Gandalf listened sympathetically, "Even in that short moment I knew I could not trust myself to allow much more contact with it, especially after hearing what it had done to Boromir. Out of fear should the same fate fall upon me I kept away but even then the Ring was tempting me."

"Your brother's loss was a tragedy, of which could have been the first of many if the Fellowship had not been broken and its members scattered."

"Who would have fallen next do you think if the Fellowship had remained to together?" Faramir asked quickly, dreading the answer.

Gandalf's blue eyes flashed, "Aragorn would have gone to the very end with Frodo if that is who you accuse."

"Then would it have been one of the hobbits, or someone else?" 

"You ask if it would have been Sam or Legolas?" Gandalf raised his eyebrows and sighed, "Eight years ago I would have said no straight away, but now after certain circumstances I cannot say. 

"Sam has carried the Ring from Lothlórien where it was revealed to us to and into Mordor, the burden becoming heavier and more powerful with each stride. And now that a great number of the elves have lost their immortality and part of their self control I cannot say how the Ring will affect Legolas." Gandalf explained, "He travelled with us to Mordor with Sam carrying the Ring and with the original Fellowship he was not affected in anyway by the Ring. But I fear an unseen hand plays against them now, what will happen I cannot say, nor do I wish to even guess"  

Faramir did not reply to the wizard but shivered knowing that the battle thy just thought and died in could have been all in vain should something happen to the other party.

"They'll journey will not be uneventful for the Ring draws ill to the bearer" Gandalf said.

"They could be ambushed!" Faramir gasped his face paling.

"It was the risk they took. The threat would have been greater should we have all gone with him. The fewer that went would increase the chances of secrecy"  

"Then you are a fool!" Faramir cried causing many heads to turn, "Everything we have battled for, everyone who had scarified their lives, everything –"  

"Will live on" Gandalf cut across him, his voice soothing. "Aragorn will not fail"

"But you just said you could not –"

"I said I could not tell if they would come back alive, I did not say that they would not succeed" the wizard said patiently. "It will be his greatest test of his life but he will not let fail us"

"You speak too confidently Mirthrandir" Faramir replied heavily.

"Confidently? Where is your confidence in you King and friend?" Gandalf hissed, "Look around you! The people have no fear of Aragorn failing nor have they even thought of it. Why have you become suddenly so negative? What happened to your love and respect for your King? You act as if he is already dead"

"No! How can you believe that?" Faramir whispered, "I would never…"

"Then stop this petty argument and listen to facts." Gandalf snapped. "Ever since Aragorn became aware of his ancestry he swore upon his mother's grave that he would never allow himself to become as Isildur, a coward, selfish, cold ruler. He will honour that promise and forever hold it to the day he dies. Even on the verge of death he will deny the power of Ring, never would he allow himself to be devoured by its corruption."     

In the early hours of night the army of the west set camp and soon fell silent, sleeping peacefully.

"Tell, me young hobbit. What has extinguished your cheery personality?" the soft voice of Nymane whispered just over the sound of gently snoring.

 Merry turned to her, watching her search him with her green eyes that reflected the shinning stars like lanterns in the night. Her lean frame was silhouetted in the pale light still captured in the sky, and with a fluid movement causing her long blond hair to fall about her shoulders she knelt beside him. 

"I am worried for my friends. I know how treacherous the Ring can be, I have seen it destroy more then just one life." Merry whispered. "The final blow of the War fell in my homeland of the Shire. A peaceful, pleasant, green and cheerful place which became spoilt and ruined by death and pollution by the Ring and by those it had changed. It broke my heart to see it in such a state"

Nymane made a movement as if to place a hand upon his shoulder but decided not to, "You must remember, little one that you are not the only one affected by the descent and evil the Ring has bought. My brothers and sister both of old and young have been killed and mutated for no just cause. The sprit of Sauron is dark and horrid, truly only capable of death and corruption."

Merry nodded, "Forgive me," he said, "I did not know how much the Ring had damaged your race and life"

Nymane's eyes flickered, "It has not just damaged my race or my life but has ended the time of the elves. There are very few of us left now, and for what? Greed, money and power. Why spill so much innocent blood of something near impossible to claim?" 

"The Ring has the power to change a person completely from their normal self into something twisted and paranoid." Merry replied quietly.

"Is what became to your kin, Frodo?" she asked delicately.

Merry's brow frowned, "If Sam had not gone with Frodo things would have been much different, but even to the day he sailed away West he was never going to be the hobbit we all remembered. He was changed, he no longer shared then same deep passion he had once in the Shire." Merry said. "He like nearly all hobbit were born and grew up in the Shire and knew nothing else. Before we left on the long journey we were all innocent, young, and fool hearted. The quest changed us, made us wiser and more aware. But to Frodo it made him pale, sick and constantly afraid of his own shadow. He became jumpy as if on edge all the time and he never settled even after he had destroyed it."

"In all accounts he was lucky to still have his life to live. The chances of him surviving were always low I am afraid to say. But as you said if Sam had not gone with him things would be very different. Sam was the turning point in the journey, without him the quest would have surely failed."

"I only hope Sam can do the same thing again" Merry sighed and shifted his gaze eastwards where Mount Doom stood on the horizon. 

Over a healthy fire Gimli sat gently smoking his pipe with the small figures of Merry and Pippin sleeping just outside the fires light. 

 Though they had won the victory the dwarf could still not restrain himself from thinking about Sam, Aragorn and Legolas wondering Mordor alone. He frowned at Gandalf's judgement but he did not question it either. The wizard was not the character to argue with, nor to anger. His father had learnt from that one. 

But still if it was up to him he would have sent more men with them into Mordor to protect them. True the risks of being attacked by one of your own men were higher, but that was one of the things that you would expect with the Ring battling hard not to be undone. 

 The wizard was confident in their successes, but Aragorn was only human and humans make mistakes, they are quick to anger and easy to offend. With Aragorn battling with the Ring constantly it would be only too easy for friction to start between the three of them and for one thing to lead to another. 

 Frodo and Sam had many scuffles and scrapes on their journey, but still they remained close friends and never took offence by any harm done. But these were three of a kind and not overly use to each others presence. Anything could happen.

 His thoughts were broken by someone shifting into his eye line. 

Unexpectedly Thranduil sat opposite him, his eyes lingering on him as if trying to catch his attention. Slowly, not knowing what to expect Gimli raised his head and met the elf's eyes. 

"It seems I owe you an apology master dwarf," he said stiffly as if he was struggling with his conscious to talk kindly to a long foe. "I understand you saved the life of my son"

Fidgeting Gimli answered uncomfortably, "I am in no dept, sir. For Legolas was kind enough to return the favour more then once"

Thranduil smiled, "That is beside my point. At first I did not agree with the friendship between yourself and Legolas, and I am sorry for my harsh words against you in Mirkwood. I take them all back." Thranduil said, "You have helped and protected my son as I should have done. Instead I have neglected my role as his father and always have done…" his voice broke off. His eyes were low and Gimli could tell he was deeply ashamed of himself – but why was he telling him this?

"You may wonder why I am telling you this." Thranduil continued, "When I see you two together I see the deep set bond between two close friends that I should have shared with him. I only wish for you to share a long friendship with Legolas and continue to have this protective bond that I could not establish with my own son"

 Stunned into silence Gimli could only nod, his mouth moving silently. 

Exhausted both physically and mentally Aragorn found himself battling more and more with himself to restrain his hold on the Ring, but like the bears before him he found himself caressing the jewel regularly, drawing his power and strength from it. He could not afford to let the others find out it had affected him so much, he was the only hope of the people and he could not afford himself to fail his test, he would not allow himself to break his promises. But with each passing hour the promises and honours were becoming far harder to obey.

_"Aragorn, Aragorn" _the Ring whispered, _"Embrace the path of your fore bearers and becoming mighty and powerful beyond your wildest dreams"_

 Running his thumb along the Ring's smooth edges Aragorn could not draw his eyes away nor could he close his ears to the sounds.

_"Aragorn, Aragorn, let me lead you to the path you should follow" _the Ring hissed sweetly as Aragorn fingered the Ring, turning it over in his fingers  

_"It is simple, just slip me upon your fingers and I will show you the way" _

He paused, flexing his fingers it rolled gently between his thumb and fore finger. Covering the Ring in his fist Aragorn forced his hands to the ground, fighting the temptation. 

_"Let me show you your destiny, your path"_

Aragorn scraped the hard soil with his fingernails and willed himself to ignore the whisperings. He could not allow himself to fall… he just couldn't.

 His restrain was slipped, as if by an invisible hand pushing and pulling him his two hands grew closer together, the Ring held between thumb and finger in one hand, a long finger extended upon the other.

He creased his face and willed his arms to respond and his mind screaming and swearing to stop, to throw the Ring away to be rid of this curse, this burden, this danger.

But his body was embracing it, and before he could cry out to his friends the Ring had touched his outstretched finger and he vanished. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Without moving his feet his path flashed before him at a high speed. The bare terrain of Mordor swept past him, a strong wind made his hair fly and his ragged clothing flap against his body. He saw the mountain of Fire looming ahead, but his vision turned away and saw a new tower being constructed where Barad-dûr stood with his very eyes by hoards of orcs.

_"These will be yours to command," _The voice of the Ring said, _"The Tower will be re-built where you will dwell a Lord and where you're every command will be met" _ 

But the image flickered, and again he saw the mountain of Fire burning brightly but not alone.

Faint white figures were patrolling its face.

The nine ghostly figures wore white robes, their cold and vacant eyes watched the horizon carefully, like a bird of prey watching the skies, and upon each of their heads stood a crown, nether colourful or beautiful but horrific and terrifying like the forgotten King wearing them..

 These were the Nazgúl already in this early hour recreating themselves.

Another patrolled with them, but looked alive and solid as if Aragorn could call out to him. The figure was finer and taller then the Nazgúl, but no matter how hard he tried he could not identify the figure, or see his face as it was covered by a curtain of long hair nor reach him. A disorienting battle between himself and the unknown figure flashed before. His opponent was incredibly swift and agile, and in the backdrop of the mountain his opponent looked more frightening then the Nazgúl, with his long curtain of hair fanning in the air like a banner.

As he watched feeling completely helpless as he saw himself suffer under the blows from his enemy a roaring sound like a great fire filled his ears growing louder and fiercer. Soon it was all he could hear, the images of his battle began to fade and blurred into one unmistakable shape, boring into Aragorn's face, causing his heart to race and him to sweat in fear.

The Eye of Sauron pierced him, freezing him to the spot like a petrified horse.

Groping in the darkness he felt for the Ring and with a great effort he pulled the band from his finger.

 The roaring sound ended abruptly and he felt himself fall heavily upon soid ground, back into reality. He lay still for several moments catching his breath, reassuring himself all he had just seen was only an hallucination.

 Or was it?

An explosion of questions rolled into his mind: Where were the Nazgúl? Where they coming to find him at this moment? Who was the tenth figure? Where were the orc army now? What if they were re-building the tower? What would happen - ?

Aragorn quickly sat up and looked around himself. Thankfully the area was deserted and his friends slept onwards, none of them had seen what he had done.

Slightly relieved but still shaken by his lack of self control he tried to push out the images he had seen but found his eyes falling again on his sleeping companions again.

_A tall fine frame… with a curtain of long hair…_

 A shiver slipped down Aragorn's spine – had he seen Legolas, or had he seen some sort of twisted shadow of Elrond? Was his friend going to betray him? Why would he battle his step father or Legolas? Was Legolas going to try and steal the Ring from him? Even after being exposed to it for so long without any sign of desire for it. What did this mean?

Without realising it he found himself on his feet trying to put a safe distance between himself and the elf, or what was once.

What should he do? Stay with them and let things go on as normal? Let his friends turn against him, driven by the power of the Ring? Or act?

 Ideas rapidly passed through his mind, each as ridiculous as each other. Finally he came to a decision – he should leave them and continue on his own. If Legolas was going to try and take the Ring then surely Sam would attempt it also. There were his friends and he would not allow himself to bring harm to them.

There was no other choice left.

He had to leave them.

Glazing over his shoulder a final time Aragorn left them, still sleeping peacefully unaware to his departure and his descent.

The Ring was putting them against each other, and it would undo them all.

Something wasn't right. That was the thought that bought Legolas out of his uneasy sleep. A cold breeze had been building throughout the night and tunnelled down upon them. He peered through narrowed eyes and carefully looked around himself.

 Only empty ground and bare rock surrounded them, the windy air carried no sounds other then of Sam sleeping peacefully alongside.

Then he tensed. Why could he not hear the deep and steady breathing of Aragorn? Why didn't he wake him when it was his turn to watch?

 Filled with questions Legolas sat up and stared in horror at the empty ground where his friend should have been. Instantly he swooped over Sam and shook him awake.

"Wake up Sam!" he whispered urgently. Sam blinked away his sleep and sat up hearing Legolas' tone: "What is the matter?" he asked.

Legolas was already in the middle of breaking camp and replied with fearful eyes: "Aragorn is missing."  Sam shot to his small hairy feet and helped pack.

"Why, where has he gone?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head. "I do not know. Perhaps the Ring has tempted him away from his path, or he had became delusional. I cannot say Sam"

Sam's face was grave. "We need to find him quickly," he said, "Frodo would sometimes wonder away and sometimes straight into danger."

"Your words are not comforting, my friend" Legolas rose.

Sam followed suit and gazed over the bare land. "Which way should we go?"

"We follow his trail"

"You can see his footprints?"

"Though I am as mortal as you Sam I have not lost my ability to track prey."

And as Sam squinted he could make out a faint staggering line that had disturbed the loose stones.

"The trail is cold" Legolas stated. "He must have past this way during the night, his path is not straight as if he was blinded by the night"

"Or by the Ring," Sam whispered.

"Let's hope not"

 Then like an animal Legolas leapt away with all his remaining grace leaving his weariness behind him, driven on fear. Sam hurried after him, his heart racing knowing if they could not find Aragorn soon only ill would come out if it.

  The raising sun was masked by the dark clouds. They spread fingers over the mountains, over the Brown Lands reaching as far West as Gondor and Rohan.

The battle for freedom was not yet over.

Under this dark covering a man hunt was underway.

One lone figure tacking another, but only one would walk away alive.

Staggering over uneven ground the Ring consumed him. His normally focused and alert mind was locked in a trace where his thoughts and commands to his body could not penetrate. His feet were carrying, his hands were cupped around the golden band and his soul encaged within his body acting as a prison.

 The Ring was going deeper with each moment and breaking down his defences.   
The Great King of Men would fall.

Over the company of Men, Elves and Dwarves the black clouds overhead rippled as a flash of lightening flickered through them. Abruptly a heavy sheet of steady rain fell upon them. Within minuets the ground beneath them became a slippery hazardous muddy path. The rain ran into their eyes, down their faces and seeped through every layer of clothing they carried.

 Weighed down by the water and by the dull miserable atmosphere the line carried on under the sound of rolling thunder.

Merry shook his rain soaked head, "Great weather we'll having isn't?" he joked to Pippin just behind him. Pippin didn't reply, but pulled a comical face.

Merry's laughter has hidden by the sorting of the few injured horses that could still walk. The rain chilled there already cold, tired and injured bodies.   

One shook its self, showering several dwarves with additional water.

But their cries of disapproval were lost when all sounds were whipped away leaving an icy chill to the air in the silence.

Lightening flashed overhead and scuffles broke out between horses and riders as the animals fought to break free from their masters.

Like a hot poker in a wound a scream of fear and pain broke the silence followed by more and more.

Drawing his short sword Merry felt the cold rain slip down his back and his breath coming in short gasps as flickering, shadowy figures fluttered past him.

Nightmares had found them.

"Sam, stop!" Legolas cried skidding to a halt.

The hobbit stopped as demanded and turned, "What is it? Have you found something?" he asked.

Legolas was kneeling over the faint trail in the fading light. Carefully he fingered the ground, his face troubled and his eyes were dark. Sam watched him closely trying to read hisexpression, but found himself taken by the sudden urge to move away again.

"Come on," he whispered urgently, half turning.

"Oh, no" Legolas whispered. Again Sam turned back: "What is it?" he asked standing at Legolas's side.

"Can you see these very faint prints Sam?" Legolas asked gently.

Sam shook his head.

"They are the prints of an elf" he said.

"An elf…but who?" Sam asked, and then his eyes widened with understand. "Oh, no, it's Aufstand!" he whispered, "But I thought you –"

"I should have done, Sam. But I didn't. Now I wish I had."

"And now she's tracking Aragorn"

"And the Ring" Legolas finished, "That is all she wants"

"How old are the tracks?" Sam asked dreading the answer.

Again Legolas lowered himself over the prints, "Already the scent is becoming cold. These are at least six hours old." He said, "We must hurry if we wish to stop her"

 Sam was already gone before Legolas had risen to his feet, his small heart driven by fear of what may happen. He had been through so much, seen so much pain and grief that he was determined not to allow this to end this way. 

Aragorn swooped and fell to the ground still clutching his deadly jewel in his hand. He knew he shouldn't but by each passing moment he could not restrain himself. He was growing to accept the Ring and call it his own, his Precious.

 _No_, he snapped his head upwards out of the dust and physically shook himself; calling on all his strength he demanded his hand to release the golden band. And with much exertion his fingers reacted and the weight fell away.

 Like the sun rising after days of blackness Aragorn felt himself re-awaken and his mind clear, the additional weight of the Ring being missing was a blessing. His eyes slide into focus and before himself he saw the mountain painfully close. He was so close physically but so far away from completing his task mentally. His mind was corrupted with the power of the Ring and he had no strength left to fight.                 

 Struggling to sit upwards Aragorn knelt for several moments catching his breath and organizing his wearily mind to form a plan. He knew what he must do, but to complete it he must expose himself to the Ring yet again. Alone in hostile land he began to wish he had not left Sam and Legolas, his fiends would have been supportive and would pull him out of his low.

He started down at the Ring laying peacefully upon the dusty ground glittering in the dying light of the day. Though the Ring was tempting him, everyday, every moment it called to him, he still denied it. He would not allow himself to openly embrace it, he still had to fight. For his people, his friends and the future. So many were depending on him, he just couldn't give up now, he had come so far. 

_I will not fail_ he said to himself, he repeated these words and found his parched lips moving._ I will not fail_. He rose to his feet and quickly threaded the Ring back onto its chain, throwing it around his neck and began to climb up the feet of mountain.

His desire to reach the peak was there but within minuets of setting off he ground to a halt and started around himself, his fingers resting upon his sword.

There were forty of them of various sizes and states of condition each wielding a ugly weapon but not the glass liquid filled tubes they had earlier. It took maybe a second or two for the orcs to realise what had stumbled upon them, they shook themselves physically and rose to their feet, snarling and growling.

Calmly Aragorn drew his sword watching his foe dribble tempted by the mere thought of consuming meat. This disguising probability of becoming food did not ruffle Aragorn in the slightest, calmly and controlled he wielded his blade, clear minded at the orc that would have easily taken a piece out his side as it charged.

 One by one the others followed, each taking their chance against the wearily man, swinging his long sword to and fro, ducking and diving under blows they dealt him. The orcs fought hard, they were desperate, starving and determined

Weakly Aragorn began to doubt how long he would be able to keep up his cool composure and protect himself. The Ring was pulling him one way while the battle pulled him another direction. His strength was fading away as time and time again his blows hit metal and was turned away, he used his remaining agility and quick wits to save himself – but for how much longer could he keep this up?

Suddenly an answer came: A rough word was barked in Black Speech and the orcs paused in their onslaught. Then they fell back allowing Aragorn to take in the situation but he dare not turn his back upon the orcs, to see the new arrival. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

 Again the voice in Black Speech spoke and silence fell over the orcs.

Then abruptly just when Aragorn expected something to happen, the orcs began to laugh: powerful roaring laughter, their rough frames shaking with it, several bending over double with their hands over their abdomens.

 Rough words where shouted from the stranger, but the orcs continued to laugh and beat the ground with their fists.

Again the voice spoke again, and suddenly the laughter died upon the lips of the orcs as they collected themselves. Aragorn could feel droplets of sweat run down his spine as the orcs in front of him regained their hungry, evil appearance they had before. He felt too tired to fight anymore and escape would be worthless, with nothing but barren land around him there would be no where to run to, and the Ring would only lead the enemy to him…

  Before he could raise his wearily sword arm rough hands pulled it from his grasp and quickly bound his wrists, he fought weakly against his treatment but was forcefully lead this way and that until finally he was completely under their control, all his strength gone and they turned him to the commanding voice.

 Aufstand eyed him coldly upwards, her eyes resting upon the Ring around his neck. "You are foolish to wonder alone bearing such a weapon" she said, stepping closer. "Already the Ring has destroyed you, broken your once determined mind and ruined your soul" she hissed, her grey eyes blazing. "You cannot handle the pressure of the Ring, you do not have the strength to rule, nor do you have the right to carry such a opportunity around your throat." Her arm reached towards him, he tried to back away but the hands of the orcs held him still.

 Her long fingers lovingly touched the chain before wrapping themselves around the delicate strand then sharply pulled, the chain's catch snapping leaving the One Ring in her hand.

Ahead of him Sam saw Legolas stiffen and lower himself to the ground. Panting Sam ran towards him and ducked down trying to understand what his friend had seen, as he watched him reaching for his bow.

The delight upon Aufstand's face was one that only Gollum could understand. She ran her thumb over the smooth edges, her eyes glazed.

Beyond her the orcs were stirring, itching to begin on the promise she had made to them.

Suddenly Aufstand yelped loudly and recoiled leaving her beloved Ring where it fell beside the white feathered arrow.

Instantly Aragorn could feel himself climb over the depression and sinking feeling have the Ring removed he was experiencing after Aufstand had taken the Ring from him and began to feel hope shimmer through.

Sam and Legolas were here – he stared around him expecting to see them, but found nothing.

Where were they?

Legolas lowered his bow and scuttled across the ground mouthing for Sam to follow.

Above their hidden location Aufstand stood stiff and alert, her eyes locked on the area where his arrow had been fired.

"Come out of hiding, your highness," Aufstand sneered, kicking at the arrow upon the ground. "I owe you for this" she raised her handless arm into the air, her eyes searching.

Nothing happened, no one moved or spoke.

Aufstand turned to the orcs and whispered gently in Black Speech. They broke ranks and crept about, but still the hands held Aragorn still.

"Going to save your dear friend?" Aufstand continued, "How courageous of you, my Lord" she teased. "But I must say I don't understand why you would risk the remainder of your short life on him. He is broken and ruined, afraid and weak – not a King at all" she pressed her eyes rolling and her hand lightly touching a throwing knife.

 Too occupied watching her randomly talk and creep about Aragorn did not notice the pressure easing upon his shoulders or the biting ropes around his wrist slack until something flew past his ear and Aufstand screeched.

 Legolas slyly smiled, bending his wrist throwing her knife into the nearest orc killing it instantly.

Under the pouring rain the screaming did not ease. Éomer skidding in the mud after throwing his weight behind his blade, lost his footing falling on to his back. The screaming from the elf in above him ceased and he shook himself visibly.

 The horrific sight before him was not much better then the nightmares he had just witnessed but Erbschaft took up his sword, extending his arm and allowed Éomer to help him to his feet.

"There are so many of them" Éomer breathed, "We don't have the strength to fight them. Even Gandalf is struggling."

Erbschaft patted the King of the Mark upon his shoulder, "Do not give up hope" he said. "As long as we are free we can fight them, keep them at bay"

"Do you think we can win?"

"Anything is possible" Erbschaft replied.

"Then let us draw swords together"

Swooping blades through the air the shadowy figures of the Nightmares fell away, freeing its prisoner to search for another. Beads of sweat slipped across Erbschaft's brow Éomer was right, there were loads of them and even Gandalf was struggling to keep his mind free.

 Beyond him Erbschaft could see the halflings Merry and Pippin wide eyed keeling upon the ground, their mouths hanging open.

_By the Valar!_ he thought _the Nightmares are hell bent on killing as many of us as they can! _He leaped towards them and with a single sweep of his curved blade the hobbits were freed.

Gasping for breath the two hobbits slowly picked themselves up and wobbled unstably, their small swords rose slowly.

 Erbschaft turned searching desperately for his wife, Nymane. But through the crowds of scream men, elves, dwarves and horses she was no where to be seen.

 Behind him Gandalf raised his staff above his head; the wooden end flashed lighting the area. Instantly the Nightmares retreated. Panting Gandalf called the company to him: "Hurry my friends come to me" he called, "We must remain focused, closed and strong otherwise the Nightmares will tear you apart"

Briefly they exchanged worried glances between one another before Gandalf's pained face paled and the light in his staff weaved.

"Everything rest on Aragorn fulfilling his task. The Nightmares are connected to the Ring, in the meantime we must strive to remain alive" he wheezed.

Gasping, his body shaking, the light from his staff died covering the company again in darkness.

Again the air was filled with screaming.

Sam had suddenly acquired the grace and speed worthy of the elves.  He ducked through everyone's grasp, between their legs, past their blades and teeth and snatched up the weight of the Ring and whisked it away before he could be stopped.

 Turning upon his heel he threw the Ring accurately landing squarely in Aragorn's hands: "Go!" he called diving under a pair of arms.

Legolas pressed Aragorn's long, weather beaten fingers around the Ring and pushed it towards his friends' chest and forcing Andúril back into its sheath: "Do not stray from your path" he said putting pressure upon his shoulders to turn him away from the battle and towards the mountain. "Remember what Elrond said: _Every path you have trodden has lead to this road_" Aragorn nodded dumbly.

"Go now!" Legolas hissed pushing Aragorn away before quickly spinning upon his heel and into battle.

Stumbling up the incline of the mountain with the sounds of battle rang in his ears Aragorn ran, feeling heavy with guilt. Painfully he wondered if he would ever see Sam or Legolas again. They were fighting a hard and long battle alone, without him. He half turned; half thinking about helping them, but deep inside he knew he must continue on his own path up the mountainside to rid the world of the one thing that was putting them in constant danger of becoming lost in a world of darkness and shadow.

 With his heart hammering painfully in his chest he heaved his heavy legs into action leaving behind his friends who had never truly left him, with tears in his eyes he turned his back upon them for possibly the last time.

Screaming with unmeasured anger Aufstand roared, running hard to hurry to pursuit Aragorn and the One Ring she desires. But calmly Legolas steeped into her path with Ruzlina's sword raised his eyes blazing with deep set anger.

Aufstand eye line dropped to the blade and her face broke into a quick smile: "Reclaiming items form the dead are you?" she mocked. "Well I suppose it is of no use to her now is it? Though I am surprised how you managed to live through what was supposed to kill you"

"You only have yourself to blame, Aufstand. It was your arrows and your knives, your poor aim" he returned the same icy mocks she had given. He knew that was the one thing she detested the most was someone insulting her ability to fight.

Growling she stepped back, snatched a sword from a fallen orc and cried: "Enough talk, let us finish this!"

Sting flashed in the dull light as Sam played it bravely, the orcs fought at first with such energy and commitment, but they bravery was failing. They were becoming hesitate facing the elvish sword growing bright blue but more so were they half watching the battle between Aufstand and Legolas. They stepped past and over Sam, ignoring his sharp words.

_They don't want to fight me_, Sam thought. _They are more interested in watching Aufstand struggle – do they really hate her that much? _He looked from orcs, to Aufstand then to Legolas' set face. Something was different about him; he was cold and prepared to die… Sam shivered and sheathed his sword.

He knew what he must do; he had been there to know it for himself. Taking a deep breath Sam ran and began climbing the mountain to give Aragorn as much strength as he could.

**Thank you to all my reviewers and silent readers – but please can you find your voices!  I love feedback, no matter what you say. Good or bad I am always looking for ways to improve myself, hunt for fresh ideas.**

** Speaking about fresh I feel this story is becoming a little bit stale, that is why I am striving to finish it so I can move onto something new and exciting. Now I can relate to many of you other authors and professional ones – writing a sequel is hard!**

** Thank you for your continuous support Soppy Hobbit.  **

**Rosie**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

In her rage many of Aufstand's early blows were too heavy-handed and flew over Legolas head or too far wide, not threatening but still as equally dangerous.

Stepping and dodging it soon became apparent when her swings became controlled; her aggression became tunnelled and focused.

"You fool," she hissed, her orc sword clashing upon the elven steel. "You think you can beat me?" she continued, hammering her blows time and time again sending jarring waves through their hands and up their arms and both fighters fought against their natural instincts to hold onto their weapons.

"Not going to ask why this time?" Aufstand pressed adjusting her weight prior to her next attack.

"There is no point," Legolas replied paring her and straining against his stinging hands. "There is nothing you can do to save yourself from your crimes"

She clenched her jaw tightly and suddenly leapt into the air and spun. The move caught Legolas by surprise, quickly he dived rolling upon his shoulder and snatched up an orc helmet. Spilt second later her sword punctured the metal.

Instantly she began to battle to free her blade but Legolas kept a firm grip on the orc armour that had saved his life. Frustrated and disappointed Aufstand did the only thing she could do: she kicked him hard in the head.

Immediately she pulled her blade free of his grip, but could not free it of its heavy end. Instead she swooped and picked up another.

Legolas rolled in the dust and for the first time suddenly noticed the ring of orcs around them, watching and laughing. He shivered involuntary – if he lived through this battle there would be little chance of him fighting onwards. Staggering to his feet, disorientated from her savage kick he forced his eyes to focus and he asked himself panicky: Where is Sam?

A rough hand pushed him unsteadily forward and into Aufstand's waiting arms. Out of reflex he managed to twist his body and raise his blade just enough to save himself before another hand pushed him back into the battle.

The orcs began to jeer and laugh, but the sounds became distorted in Legolas' ears as his body felt tired, awkwardly heavily and sluggish, his strength failing slipping away like water through cupped hands.

Again he was just able to defend himself as his feet staggered him into danger. Panting heavily he bought his feet under control and wearily raised his sword before she was upon him once more. Driven by madness and intense angry her blows fell furiously fast and accurate, and there was nothing Legolas could do.

Twisting her wrist her sword tip sliced a deep cut into his sword arm and another to his left leg, he gasped out loud and fell to his knees only then did she finally stepped back to survey her enemy.

"An arm for an arm" she muttered watching Legolas numbly swap his sword into his other hand, blood already wetted its leather covered hilt. Any other enemy at this point would have started to beg for mercy, but Aufstand knew this would never be the case. Legolas had been bought up to never accept defeat, no matter what the situation. He was the son of Kings, strong, brave, determined and unwilling to admit defeat. He was the type of character who would somehow surprise you even when he appeared defeated and broken.

She watched him closely slowly raise himself from the ground, hurt, broken, and betrayed. He would never forgive her for what she had done; there was no mistake about that.

"No tricks left under your sleeve, you Highness?" she sneered lowering herself to his eye line but keeping well out of his reach. "I expected so much more from you, here to save your friend and the rest of Middle-Earth. But it seems you are not up to it"

The orcs laughed around them.

Legolas did not reply but continued to raise himself, struggling to make his shaking legs take his weight.

"Here you are wasting my time, standing in my way, doing your best to help your friends – but it makes no matter. I can run up that mountain faster then Aragorn can walk. It will be easy to end his journey so close to his goal" she continued enjoying watching him strive. "How does it feel to have work for something? All your life you have lived in luxury while I and everyone else had to struggle year in and year out just to survive – and you! You wanted us to bend to your every command!" she snapped, "It disgusts me!"

She moved closer staring into his eyes: "But it won't be that way for much longer," she whispered "Soon it will all be mine"

"You believe it will as you dream?" Legolas said in a low tone, "You really think it will be so? The Ring will never allow you to have a peaceful life; it will turn you further into the monster you have already become, twisted and evil"

Her face changed quickly and she shot her hands forward, gripping Legolas' collar and raised him to his feet: "You are wrong" she whispered dangerously, "Very wrong, the Ring will not destroy me but make me powerful above all. No one will be able to stop me, not even all the forces of this and the next World put together could stop me."

"But I can" he smiled weakly.

"You?" she laughed, "You are in no position to say such –"

She began to choke, his hands around her throat, her sword upon the ground. Frightened she released her grip upon his shirt and he slipped downward several inches onto his feet, his grip still firm. Her hands found their way to his throat but already she could feel his advantage and darkness began to filter into her vision. Panicking she kicked and kneed him within her reach but it did nothing to help her.

How could he do this so coldly and so calmly? she thought.

In a last attempt she placed a foot upon his abdomen followed by the other, and using his grip as a help she began to walk up his chest and sharply stamped upon his throat.

At last his grip fell and they both fell, gasping and choking. Surprisingly she was the first to recover and instantly her hands fell up her throwing knives at her waist, but Legolas refused to be pinned down and quickly rose to his feet his hands clutching his knives also.

Like wild male animals they began to circle one another, their eyes locked and their knives glittering.

* * *

The loose stones slipped beneath his wearily feet as he crawled, degrading himself up the mountain. Beads of sweat slipped down his cheeks and the sounds of battle below had ceased. He dare not turn to look back, fearing what he may see. Again he returned his watering eyes to the doorway set into the rocks just a few yards in front of him. Soon it would be all over, he thought to himself, it will be done and finished at last.

Hand of over hand he pulled himself onwards and upwards, the Ring weighing him down and hissing loudly, calling to him, begging him to listen. He did not listen to its evil scheming lies; instead his eyes, body, mind and soul were firmly fixed on the doorway and what lay beyond.

* * *

From above a showering of dust fell upon his curls and Sam dug deeper, pulling himself upwards in purist. His friend was nearly there physically but how far away was Aragorn from victory in reality? Sam knew how the fast the Ring could change you, turn you. He had experienced the longing-ness the Ring gave as soon as it left the comfort of your hand, it was treacherous and deadly. Always filling your mind with nothing other then itself.

* * *

Adrenaline was probably the only thing that was keeping Legolas going as using all his grace and speed he tested her reaction as she did his. At arms length they quickly faced their knives towards one another. He had braved the intense pain in his right arm to hold both his knives over her one. This gave him the upper advantage he wished to keep.

Years of countless experience the two could predict each others moves just by the slight adjustment to their body positioning. Their blades were sharp nicking their skin but without feeling any pain. At the back of Legolas' mind Aragorn and Sam stood firmly in view, constantly reminding him where he was needed. His hatred of Aufstand was not personal anymore, it was for all those she had mutated and ruined. And now was the time to put it all to rest.

Using the advantage of two blades to one Legolas darted forward, thrusting his knife towards her chest, only to be denied with the sharp twang of metal hitting metal. That was to be expected. He twisted quickly and bought him his second blade to her throat half wondering what she would do with her only blade locked with his own. Again he was denied but only with the though leather of her gauntlets. Annoyed his eyes lingered on the thick leather – suddenly it looked very familiar.

He twisted away and saw she was smiling, her lips parting in a light chuckle. "You are a delight to watch, your Highness" she laughed, "Always so full of dire attempts and expression.

"You recognize these I assume?" she raised her bladeless arm

She didn't need to tell him he knew who's they were. They were Henduil's the brother of Erbschaft a dear friend to him. The death of his company had been hard to bear. The long hours spent wondering the empty land of Mordor were held in silence as remembered those who were lost and prayed for them to find peace in death.

The memory awaked new pain, frustration and anger. He could feel it build and bubble beneath his skin, bursting to be released – and there in front of him was the one responsible to their deaths. Shifting his grip upon his knives he raised his wearily head and harnessed his anger into new energy and violence.

Steel scrapped steel and in their battle sparks flew. The orcs took tentative steps backwards, unsure what would happen.

Fighting back with vigorous and various tactics Aufstand was quickly running out of cards left to play – expect one. Turning here and there she back to lead him and slowly pushed him into the circle of orcs expected them to beat him on her behalf.

He allowed her to do so and so it was clear why.

The orcs were not attacking him – but her!

Stray punches and knives knocked, pitched and cut her flesh. Screaming in fear and panic she neglected her battle with Legolas and turned to the orcs, shouting in Black Speech.

The hoard took no heed to her words, but increased their scrapple to beat her and end her rule over them.

Before her brown head disappeared under their fists and feet Legolas stood back and watched, his voice carrying over the noise: "See what greed has done to you. I had no pity of Cassione – I have none for you"

Still screaming he turned away at last and headed up the mountain.

* * *

A smoke and flame filled cavern laid beyond the doorway into the mountain. Staggering inside Aragorn willed his feet to carry him just enough for him to do his task and not in any other direction. Only a narrow bridge lead him to the heart of the mountain, one slip and everything would be over including his life. Though strangely the idea of death seemed peaceful and tempting…

Upon the end of the rock bridge he stopped, his heart hammering in his chest. And slowly he drew the Ring and near broken chain from over his head, his hands were slow in acted, they wanted to hold onto its comforting warmth just a little longer.

The Ring slipped agonizingly slowly through his fingers, the chain the only thing keeping it from falling in the abyss below. The suddenly change in weight nearly made him drop it, but his fingers refused. The minuets stretched by as he stood over the edge, just a easy movement left to complete then it would be over. Why then was it so hard to do it? His fingers just stubbornly refused to let go. He stared at the golden band, watching the flames dance across it with fascination, desire and awe.

_How could you destroy such a beautiful object? _A voice inside his head said. _It would be a shame to do such a thing to such a pretty ring._

No! I must let it go… It must end, stop, cease. I must do this.

He was torn into two.

_Let it go? Let it fall into the fire? Don't be a fool!_

It must, it has to be done.

_Why? It's your, your own, your Precious._

No, I will never embrace it. The Ring has bought too much death and destruction to the world.

_You will not embrace me? That is too late – you already have? Can't you see it? You draw your strength from me – it was my power that gave you the strength to pull yourself up this mountain._

No, I did this myself – I don't believe you.

_Whither you do or not there is no denying what I can do for you._

You cannot do anything for me, you can only destroy all that is.

_Wield me to your needs and desires. You are in control of what will come._

Only Sauron has that power.

_How would you know if you will not listen to me?_

No! Be-gone I will never –

_Aragorn stop denying yourself the thing you know what is right. I am yours, your Pernicious._

No! You are – you are…

_I am yours._

You are my…

Precious.

_You are my Precious._

Timidly a small voice called to him from behind: "Aragorn?" it whispered, "It's alright. I understand it's hard, but think about what will happen. Think about those who are depending upon you"

Aragorn twitched his head slightly and saw Sam standing behind him, his face pale and his brow damp with sweat.

He felt his tongue move but he wasn't controlling it: "Silence! You know nothing, leave me in peace halfling!" he snapped.

"Just open your hand, you can do it" Sam said gently ignoring Aragorn's foul tongue.

A growl sprung from the man's throat and in one swift movement his drew back his arm, slipped the Ring into his pocket, stepped away from the edge and faced Sam.

Still the hobbit was not fazed: "I know you left us and went off on your own. I know are stronger then this. It's alright to be afraid or scared, everyone is sometimes"

"I am not afraid" Aragorn said coldly, clearly not himself as he walked closer, "It is you who should be afraid" he stopped a foot away from Sam, looking down upon his with menacing look in his eyes. "You should be afraid if me"

His fist flew out of nowhere throwing Sam into the air and against the floor heavily. Disorientated he raised his head and through blearily eyes he could see another in Aragorn's flaming eyes. He could see Frodo starting at him. Weakly he called to him: "Frodo, help me Frodo"

Instead Aragorn's shadow fell over him.

* * *

The sulphuric air of the mountainside tasted bitter in Legolas' mouth as he breathed in deep breaths to push himself upwards. Beneath his sore and bloody feet within his torn this elven shoes the stones were again restless and frightened. He quickened his pace, his mouth dry with anticipation of what may greet him at its peak. Several times he found himself unable to climb up his chosen line and had to turn back, muttering and cursing. His long legs bent and stretched endlessly. The mountain seemed alive beneath him. What did it mean? Had something happened within its core? He didn't even know if it was safe from him to be here, treading the rock face that might become the path of volcanic liquid fire. But still he ran on, dreading what may lie ahead.

* * *

Sam wanted to fight back, to defend himself but Aragorn was still his friend and Sam refused to spill his blood despite his madness. But a swift hand saved him, pulling him out of danger. His knees would not hold him as his rescuer tried to make him stand. Instead he lay in pile upon the floor looking on helplessly between the faces of Aragorn and Legolas, fearing what would come.

"Aragorn," Legolas said gently. "Let's finish this" his eyes flickered to the dangerous expression upon his friends face and trod carefully. "Let's finish this together" he said stretching to place a hand upon Aragorn's shoulder.

But the man pulled away: "It is finished," he said quietly his hand slipping into his pocket and drawing out the Ring. "The Ring is mine" he pulled on the weak chain snapping it cleanly and threw it to one side, over into the flames below.

Calmly Legolas spoke on: "Think about this –"

"Oh I have thought of this," Aragorn cut across. "A lot more then you have I'd imagine." He began to turn the Ring over with his fingers, his eyes fixed upon it.

"But you –"

"I can do what I want, just watch me"

He thrust his finger through the Ring and vanished.

Legolas straightened in surprise, behind him Sam gasped.

Shaking himself Legolas quickly composed himself, his eyes watching the ground flatten with the weight of Aragorn's booted feet.

He was fleeing the cavern, away from salvation and freedom for his people.

Legolas just couldn't let that happen, he had to stop him.

Darting forward into a quick run Legolas leaped into the air and knocked into an invisible wall or so it appeared. Though Legolas could not see him he knew he had landed upon his maddened friend and kept his grip on what ever part of him he could touch.

It soon became clear which limb he had a hold of as it began to thrash around trying to throw him off, the struggled continued in strength as the other leg began to beat him, joined by both arms. Legolas did his best to avoid the flying arms and legs though he could not see them, and threw his own into the area where Aragorn's body should have been. He could feel them impacted upon cloths and skin not the hard ground it appeared he was attacking.

From Sam's point of view the battle between the two looked very strange indeed; he could only guess what was happening as Legolas rolled about looking alone and ill recoiling from invisible forces. But it was clear the blood that splattered the ground was real.

Legolas was wrestling with something, battling to keep his grip on it and Sam squinted attempting to understand. Then suddenly Aragorn appeared solid once more.

Legolas had pulled the Ring off from Aragorn's finger!

The man quickly leaped to his feet as angry as Gollum appeared when he had reached the end of his tether and tackled Legolas around the middle bringing them both onto the ground. They wrestled and under the tangle of cloaks and limbs Sam could see little until abruptly the fighting stopped. He strained to see that had happened, fear creeping into his mind – had one of them fallen off the edge?

No, they were both there their bodies heaving with the effort of breathing, Aragorn's weight weighing down upon Legolas increasing his battle to live. Andúril pressed against his throat.

A strange hollow beating noise broke the tension in the air between them, their eyes shifted towards the source of the sound.

Aufstand stood applauding them from the doorway.

Sam tried to stand to challenge her as she steeped closer but she nudged him aside, her eyes not leaving Aragorn and Legolas the Ring still in Aragorn's hand.

"Go on Elessar" she gently pressed. "All it takes is a little more pressure and it will all be over. No one else will stand in the way of holding onto your prize."

From beneath him, sword pressed against his throat Legolas watched Aragorn closely, ignoring the pain upon his neck as the sharp edge nicked his skin.

The eyes are the window to the soul, many say and here Legolas could see his friends soul was torn in two. The power of the Ring and Aufstand on one side, firing his madness, and on the other was the passion and love for his friends, family and Kingdom.

The Ring was challenging and testing everything about him, attempting to finally undo him.

His eyes told the story of his decent into madness, his being devoured and lost never to return.

Legolas' breath became laboured; his airway being crushed by the hand of his thought was his friend.

"Aragorn, don't listen to her she's lying" Sam cried unable to allow his friends to kill another. "Even if you do all she says she only take the Ring from you when you can no longer have the strength to fight anymore"

Again Legolas could see the toil Aragorn's soul was going through deciding what he should do. Strangely the pressure began to lessen upon his throat.

"The halfling know nothing of power and leadership. Together we can rule as one, sharing everything equally" Aufstand pressed sounding more desperate.

The crazed look in Aragorn's eyes flamed again, adding pressure onto his blade.

"She will never share power. If she did Cassione would be here now!" Sam shouted trying his hardest to stand.

"Where we will go there will be no more irritating foes. Together we will rid the world of them" Aufstand continued to maintain her hold upon Aragorn's mind.

"Instead she allowed her own flesh and blood to die, alone and she showed no remorse. Do you think she will treat you any better?"

Sam's words were having an affect upon the hold upon Aragorn's body and soul. The King was fighting back. Desperate to hold onto her final card Aufstand quickly dealt a savage blow at Sam to silence him. Sam raised his arms to block her strong legs, but her feet were accurate. Despite Sam's arms she managed to turn him slightly and brutally hammered him upon the head where his short arms could not protect. Satisfied he was finally silenced she returned to reclaim her slipping hold upon the King of Gondor's brave heart and soul:

"The possibilities are endless, the open plains, the mountains, the forests and villages will be ours and together we will hunt out those who rebel against us, like a hunter chasing deer." She whispered stepping closer to watch the impact of her sentence.

Blood was blooming upon Legolas' throat.

* * *

The level of screaming was slowly decreasing as the ground began to lay cluttered with still figures of the company of the West. The Nightmares continued their relentless attacks upon their minds ending finally when their victim had lost their minds or in their insanity taken their own lives. Erbschaft stepped over a dead Gondorian solider, his throat cut by his own blade. Through the sheets of rain and flickering Nightmares Erbschaft searched for his wife Nymane eying up the fallen with dread. Lightening flashed through the sky and lit his path, and there bathed in the eerie light of the storm stood his wife transfixed and horror struck. He ran, slipping in the mud to her side, his voice rising in his throat. He arched his sword and cut down the Nightmare clinging onto her mind, but it did not retreat. Again he swept his blade through the shadowy creature. Still it did not move not release her from its grip. She was pale, her eyes wide and her body shaking. He could only guess what she was seeing; it made his heart ache to watch her. Running out of ideas he pulled free his bow and loosed several arrows into the Nightmare, but still did it not release its hold. Finally at a lose he reached for her pale and sweating hand and pulled her away, her body staggered several paces before falling, laying still upon the ground.

Erbschaft blanched – was she dead? He feared. Weakly he called her name but it died upon his lips as the Nightmare now relived of it's pray set its cold hands upon his wearily and worried mind forcing him to relate his fears and scream with the many around him.

Faramir hauled Elrohir, son of Elrond to his feet and gave back to him his sword. The Steward looked around himself and death greeted his eyes. He remembered Gandalf saying the Nightmares were connected to the Ring and his heart sank. What had happened to Aragorn? Had he failed in his task and they were doomed to die? His body ached and his mind was exhausted after the onslaught of the Nightmares upon it. Even the once unstoppable power of the elves was fading. How much longer must they endure this torture?

The horrid sights faded from view and the cold wet earth filled his nostrils and noises of battle assaulted his ears before Erbschaft could understand what had happened. Suddenly he remembered Nymane the last thing he saw was her laying still upon the ground and still as a corpse. He knelt and saw the ground where she once lay vacant of her body. He turned looking for her but saw only the commotion of battle, hearing only the screaming of those still enslaved by the Nightmares.

A sudden sword flashed before eyes and he felt the warmth of his spilt blood wet his cheek. Instantly he jumped to his feet, hands upon his sword which somehow he had not lost. His jaw dropped at the one who held the blade still stained with his blood.

Nymane's face was vacant and pale; her eyes had lost all their colour and once flaming love. The Nightmares had broken her mind and he had freed her from taking her own life only to allow her to take the lives of others he noticed the dead lying scattered nearby.

He stared unseeing towards her. He loved her too damn much to kill her, but he knew she wouldn't hesitate to kill him. If only he could save her, return her to the once beautiful and radiant elf she was before.

She steeped forward and drew her sword across his body rattling his armour; she bought her blade back repeating the movement. The Nightmares had turned her into an empty shell of her former self unable to do anything, unable to encage in a battle with the wit of a fighter. Erbschaft easily caught her blade with his own and sharply pulled it from her grip, pulling her closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side and with tears in his eyes he whispered to her: "Hush, my love it's only me. Your husband, remember?" she began to struggle underneath him. "It's me Erbschaft, can't you remember?" she became still, "We have a small boy surely you can remember Pal. He is the most beautiful little boy you'd ever seen. He has you grey eyes, my dark hair, your smile and my father's nose. Do you not remember him? Can you not see his smiling face or hear his laughter?" he asked feeling her deflate beneath him at last, her fiery madness quenched.

He relaxed his grip and looked into her pale face, etched with the lines of longing-ness and pain and he saw tears in her eyes.

"Do not weep of him, it will be alright, you'll see" he said gently cupping her head in his hands. She stepped back and shook her head her mouth opening but no sound came out.

Erbschaft watched her sadly step away he longed to help, to save, to free her but knew he did not have the power nor would Gandalf nor any living or dead person of time gone by. There was nothing that could be done.

Wrapped up in his pity for her he failed to see the glitter of a knife that stole her life away. He caught her as she fell, catching her finally words of forgiveness, her sanity briefly returned: "I'm sorry" she breathed, "But I will always love you" her body juddered before falling still, her breast blooming with blood.

In the rain under the blanket of unless screams no one heard him weep or hear his heart breaking in two.

__

_

* * *

_

__

_Listen to her words, everything she says is truth._

No they are all lies. She only wants to help herself.

"Embrace my offer, all I ask of you is to listen to my words" Aufstand cooed.

_Listen to her!_

No – I… won't I don't to –

"Let us be rid of those who stand against us"

_Add more pressure to your blade. Spill the blood of enemies._

The battle of his control was tearing him to shreds. He needed release from the pressure; the Ring grew in his hand as a response. It was to all too easy.

The world around him changed. Before Legolas looked strangely composed and calm despite death only being inches away, he still calm and ready to accept death but he looked different. His outline was blurred, his body was dull and seemed empty of life but his eyes burned brightly. Even his spilt blood shone with the same ferocity of his eyes. Aragorn turned away and stared at Aufstand, a piece of a jigsaw finally fitting into place.

She was pale, her face grotesquely twisted, her long hair hanging rank framing her face, and faint crown sitting proudly upon her head.

She was the tenth figure he had seen walking with the Nazgúl in his vision when he fist put on the Ring. It was Legolas or a shadow of Elrond he had seen but Aufstand.

Then if it was her he knew all along he would not have left the comfort and protection of Sam and Legolas, but the Ring had a way of putting friends against friends making the bearer paranoid.

Slowly he removed his sword from his friend's throat and removed the Ring from his finger, bringing himself back onto his quest.

Above him Aufstand screamed and launched herself upon him rolling away from Legolas side and closer to the edge where below the fires smouldered awaiting them.


	12. Chapter 12

Firstly I want to say how sorry I am that this update had taken so long- but at last it is finshed! Thank you my reviewers - you guys mean so much to me!

Any way on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 12**

He wanted to leap after them pull his friend to his feet and beat their enemy. But things were too complex, their bodies entwined, threaded limbs knotted together rolling dangerously upon a narrow bridge with nothing but death surrounding them. It was too much of a risk, but still Legolas could not allow himself to stand and watch his friend struggle stretched as straight as his aching body would allow. Every particle of his friends' body was denying her victory.

Suddenly Legolas remembered there was another silent witness to this madness present, he stirred himself, drawing his gaze away finally turning his back upon the battle and tendered to Sam. He was out cold blood running freely under his thick curls. With no bandages or herbs Legolas did all he could. He tore off his long, once fine tunic sleeves and bandaged them tightly around the hobbits head trying to stem the flow. Beneath his gentle hands he could feel Sam move and his breathing pattern change. At least that was a good sign that the hobbit had not taken too much ill. Silently he cursed Aufstand for her evil ways raising his eyes again to watch them scuffle.

Desperate to win Aufstand fought dirty, biting scratching anything she could do that could bring her closer to the Ring still held just out of her reach. The Ring was playing with Aragorn statically changing its weight to hinder him to give Aufstand a slight hope for holding the Ring again. It was toiling with him, battling him with all its might.

He could see the longing madness in her eyes as she clawed her way up his chest stretching for her prize. Aragorn arched his spine and willed ever muscle in his arm to extend to their extreme while his lower body twisted and turned trying to shake her away.

Sensing a weakness she stretched further unbalancing herself and feeling this Aragorn used this to his advantage, rolling to one side. With a free hand he pushed her away and staggered to his feet. She mirrored him a short distance away. Nether had any blade upon them, either lost or broken over the journey. Andúril was actually only an agonising distance away but in close combat as this the long elven blade would be inappropriate. Beyond her wild face Aragorn could see Legolas kneeling over Sam another reminder of the evil the Ring and Aufstand had done. Then why could he not end this? Why was he finding himself struggling, battling when it was so simple to do? The answer was simple: he had learnt to love and embrace the Ring as the bearers before him. That could only spell certain doom.

No matter what or how it was clear that Aufstand would stop at nothing to claim her prize. She proved this when she ran full long straight into Aragorn knocking both bodies over the head of the rock bridge and disappeared.

Legolas didn't waste his breath or time and screaming or shouting. He knew Aufstand was running out of cards quickly, he knew she would do something radical and was already in a position to move. He sprinted probably the hardest he had done in all his life and without as much as a doubt or flicker of fear he leapt after them.

As soon as his feet were clear of the take off he flipped in mid air quickly, stretched his arms out and locked a vice like grip on the first two things he could. One was unmistakably flesh and bone of a wrist, Aragorn's wrist to be precise. He didn't flash his friend a sly smile but was concentrating with the grip of his left hand as it slipped dropping him and his load further down. His hand scrapped the rock surface hunting desperately for a grip. Dread and fear began to flood him as the heat grew and the fire below seemed to become hungry ready in sallow them, then finally his fingers found a perch and stubbornly held jerking them to a sudden halt at the lowest point before falling into the fire. Already the smoke made his eyes water and sweat threaten his grip.

At last he turned to Aragorn, his eyes betraying his concern and little hope of survival so close to death and far away from salvation. Aragorn shaking with exhaustion and did not return his friends gaze instead he watched Aufstand body saved at the last moment by a half submerged rock in the swirling lava. The fall had killed her at last he noted but the Ring of Power lay in her open hand just above the line of liquid fire.

They had been foiled at the final stage and it tasted bitter.

Finally he turned his head to meet Legolas' gaze and saw the longing-ness for release in the King's eyes. "Save yourself" he said. Legolas looked into his sad eyes but ignored the command; instead he raised his legs hunting for a stronger purchase.

"No," he panted, "I have not put myself in this position just to let you die"

"The Ring will never be destroyed if it stays where it is" Aragorn replied twisting in Legolas' grip. Suddenly frightened Legolas tightened his grip on his friends' wrist and allowed his legs to go limp.

"Do not throw away your life where there is much to live for" he said gently.

"You don't understand" Aragorn whispered, "No one can"

Then it clicked. The Ring – it had changed him. Now it was on the brink of destruction like the Ring Bearers before him Aragorn did not wish to witness its destruction nor could he believe he could live without it.

"There is more to life then jewels and lies" Legolas said trying to ignore the aching in his arms. "You are a King, a man of respect one who is much loved. She loves you for one, never will she stop loving you even after the world has ended"

Aragorn clawed the images of her, _Arwen _his wife, his angel, his strength and was his soul. But she could never replace what the Ring could give…

"Aragorn," Legolas called sternly, "I am not letting you go"

Again Aragorn turned to the fires below with desire, the Ring shimmering in the firelight.

"See how the fire burns her flesh, soon it will devourer the Ring and pull it at last into the depths of the mountain." Legolas said following Aragorn's gaze.

"How can you be certain?" Aragorn snapped.

"Certain enough to do everything I can to stop you throwing away your life attempting to do the impossible. The changes of you knocking the Ring are very slim indeed."

"The Fire will only cause the Ring to show its secret not destroy it like fire burns flesh and wood" Aragorn muttered just loud enough for Legolas to hear. "This is the only way it will ever be finished". The tone for release was again heard and ignored by his friend.

"Look with your eyes not your damaged soul," Legolas cried. "The forces of nature are working to our advantage. See how the cracks are growing with each passing moment upon the rock where the Ring lays? The impact of Aufstand's fall has finally broken the spine of the rock that has been under constant pressure and tremendous heat from the mountain. It will break and fall into the fire by itself; it doesn't need your foolishness to complete what it will do itself."

Again Aragorn turned to the scene below but saw nothing different then before. Legolas was lying to try and stop him.

"You're lying" he shouted angrily though he didn't really know why.

"No I can jut see slightly better then you. Look again" Legolas actually smiled rather painfully Aragorn could see but he actually smiled!

Again Aragorn turned and for the first time he saw the cracks Legolas described. He was telling the truth and he had wasted his time arguing when they could have been climbing for safety. He watched the cracks grow, widen and meander across the rock surface in silence realising with dread his wasted time would cost them their lives. He had sentenced Sam and Legolas to their deaths.

"Aragorn," Legolas called. "There is still time, please Aragorn climb". He was pleading, his arms aching and he could feel his grip beginning to slip as death began to call to him. "Aragorn reach, come on" he continued watching for a reaction from his friend but was finding none: "Aragorn, Strider, Longshanks, Wing-foot, Thorongil, Elendil, Elessar which ever name you prefer"

Finally Aragorn turned and looked up to Legolas.

"Come on my friend reach! Reach to live!"

And he did.

* * *

On the verge of consciousness Sam told himself: _It was all a dream. When I open my eyes I will be in the Shire, in my garden where I feel asleep and Rosie won't be very pleased._ But the pain that erupted in his head made his dreams shatter. _No it's alright_ Sam told himself, _I fell out of tree in the Shire…_ the air felt hot and close smelling of smoke and ash, he coughed. His body shook with the effort and his head pounded. Admitting defeat Sam finally opened his eyes and looked around himself still upon the bridge into the Cracks of Doom. He was alone. Totally alone – where was Legolas, Aragorn or even Aufstand? Slowly he raised himself until he was sitting his head spinning and the world lurching violently. He gritted his teeth against the pain and nausea and weakly called their names over the roaring fire.

But no one answered, nothing moved.

Had Aragorn and Legolas fled leaving him behind fearing him dead? Then he touched the make shift bandages upon his head. They knew he was alive – then where were they? Had they lost and Aufstand was alive somewhere victorious? Why then would she let him live?

Confused and utterly alone Sam began to sweat with anticipation. Would someone find him, or would the mountain make the first move? Should he run to save himself should the mountain explode if Aragorn's quest had been fulfilled or should wait for them should they return and welcome death when it arrives?

Closing his eyes to block out the spinning world Sam crawled towards the rim of the rock bridge perhaps it would provide him with some answers. His chubby fingers clawed the firm rock to reassure himself as his world span threatening to black him out.

His peered through his streaming eyes only when his hands failed to grip a solid surface he had reached the end of the bridge and peered over the edge.

Nothing but fire and heat greeted his sweaty face and watery eyes. He recoiled from the heat and sat still, numb with shock. He had expected to see something that would give him the answers he was searching for, but alas there was nothing. Not even he slightest clue or tale tail sigh of what could have happened.

Filled with sudden sadness and loneliness Sam wept.

He was alone.

There was a sudden scraping sound behind him and Sam turned. His eyes travelled the length of the chamber inside the mountain and back again, but he saw nothing.

_I'm hearing things _he said to himself. _I can't stay here forever I need to move. Find out what happened if I can_.

Again the scraping noise cut across his thoughts; again Sam looked around himself and saw nothing.

Then on the third noise it became apparent where the sound was coming from, he swooped down onto his knees and peered over the edge. Directly below him were two figures silhouetted by the firelight climbing up the rock face.

"Sam!" the familiar voice of Legolas called. "Sam help us up there is little to grip."

If Legolas looked as tired as he sounded Sam had to hurry. He peered again over the edge and understood that the ledge he knelt upon over hanged the perch where Aragorn and Legolas climbed. Even if he stretched as much as he dared he would not be able to reach them or even think about pull them up. He had to find another way. If only his belongings weren't taken from him in Barad-Dûr. _If only I had a rope! _ He cursed himself remembering it was in his pack some miles away. The beautiful elven rope Lady Galderial had given him eight years ago.

_Wait, what's this? _ Something light and lumpy seemed to fall into his pocket suddenly. He slipped a hand inside and drew out a length of rope – his length of elven rope. He stared at it for several moments fingering it just to make sure it was real.

"Sam!" Legolas called his name.

Sam pulled himself together and turned looking for somewhere to tie the rope to. There was nothing there – not even the rope could work its magic this time. Instead he wrapped the rope around his hands and planted his feet squarely. Then he threw the other end of the rope over the edge.

"One at a time" he called, "There was nothing to tie the rope to."

Below he could hear Legolas snort: "Has your short time with elves taught you nothing Sam?" he said as Sam could feel a slight weight on the end of the rope. "Elvish rope has a will of its own" he called up. Shortly Legolas' head appeared over the rim of the bridge as he pulled himself hand over hand towards Sam.

Briefly he stood catching his breath before peering over the edge half fearing if Aragorn had gone back upon his word and the deliberately let go.

Thankfully he was still there. "Aragorn," Legolas called. "Take the rope" he said watching with tender moments Aragorn stretched and took hold of the rope. Below him Legolas could see the rock that had saved the Ring finally slipping into the fire.

Time was running out quickly.

"Hurry!" he called to Aragorn, then he bent picked up the rope and pulled Sam doing the same behind him.

At last Aragorn emerged breathing heavily but very much alive and whole. Instantly Sam could see the similarities between the King and his beloved Frodo. They both had that sad, incurable, strange look in their eyes left behind after they had given up the Ring. But now was not the time to talk or feel compassion for his friend as between them Aragorn and Legolas gathered Sam and the rope and began to run, the rock beneath their feet begging to shift. Below them the remains of the outcrop that had broken Aufstand's fall and saved the Ring eventually fell away, to be engulfed in the flames. With and angry hiss the Ring finally slipped beneath the surface and the mountain quaked beneath them.

With such violence that nearly knocked Aragorn and Legolas off their feet Mount Doom erupted. The molten larva licked the insides of the cave before finally spilling out and down is rock face, gliding down effortless behind the foreign small company as they made a quick retreat, only to be blocked off by another wave and hot larva that had blasted through another vent on the side of the mountain in front of them. Smoke and ash poured out of the head of the volcano, it rained down upon the barren countryside and in the distance the tower of Barad-Dûr spilt down its entire length before collapsing in upon itself, disappearing in a cloud of dust. The wave of chocking thick dust the swept the flat land sweeping away the remainder of Sauron's army and all evidence of his reign.

It was over at last. Sauron and the Ring had finally been defeated.

* * *

The din of screaming suddenly ended and the armies of the West slowly picked themselves up and looked around themselves. The air was strangely still and quite even the rain had stopped.

Shaking the rain from his curls Merry lowered his blade and stared around himself. The Nightmare that was until just a moment ago was floating in front of him, latched onto Pippin was now gone. He blinked hard trying to understand what had just happened.

Only Gandalf could give an explanation, but his was silent his eyes were fixed to the East; beside him Elrohir whispered into his ear: "There are three Eagles soaring into the distance, even my eyes are strained to see them. They are heading towards Mordor"

Gandalf did not reply, his eyes were fixed onto the horizon.

Then even though there were many miles between them and the mountain they saw and felt the eruption, it shook the ground and lit the sky. Many gasped and several cheered.

Even Erbschaft looked up from the still from of Nymane in his arms and watched the smoke billow from the mountain's peak into the sky. At last the One of Ring had been destroyed but at what cost? Many lives had been lost for this moment, this one moment that would mark the beginning of their freedom.

Éomer stood beside Faramir as they stared into the horizon bother sharing the same thoughts: _Would Aragorn emerge alive?_

* * *

Across the plains of Rohan the people stood at their post on the re-enforced walls of Helm's Deep and stared at the bright glow over the horizon. Lady Eówyen stood upon the parapet of the fortress overlooking the entrance, her eyes lingering upon the glow in the distance, her heart fluttering strangely in her bosom. She knew of the Ring bearer's quest but did not know of the complications that had arisen. She was fulfilling her duty to the letter. Stranded in the stronghold of Rohan she had be feed no news of any of the past events.

She was concerned for Faramir, Éomer and Aragorn where ever they maybe.

"What do you think has happened, my Lady?" a solider to her left asked.

"There has been or is major activity in Mordor. But what I can not say. Perhaps the Ringbearer has fulfilled his quest or Sauron has finally gained his prize." She said calmly, "Only time will tell"

The solider squinted into the distance: "Let's hope it is success of the Ringbearer that has caused the fury in Mordor rather then its delight" he muttered.

Coughing and spluttering between Legolas and Aragorn they carried Sam, hopping and leaping about the red hot face of the mountain desperate to escape, but at every turn they were denied. The hot ash and smoke burned their throats, made them choke, and streaked their faces obscuring their view, their eyes watering.

It would only take one slip and everything would be over. One miss judged step and it would be the end for all three of them.

Friends to the very end.

As they leapt and hopped they could feel themselves tire despite the hearts pounding sending waves of adrenaline through their bloodstreams, it would not be enough to save them. The understanding of their defeat came heavily upon their chests and finally reaching the end of their physical limits both Aragorn and Legolas slumped to the ground, defeated at long last. They had been through so much, seen much death, destruction and greed. Yet through the dark and disturbing times of treachery and despair they had seen much bravely, courage, determination and the combined efforts and strength of the Four Races to do everything in their power to cease Sauron's overshadowing terror and to break his iron strong grip on the One Ring and of their free hearts. The world had been changed, never could it be repaired. The numbers of the lost could not be replaced for the elves. Their time had passed nearly a decade ago and now their clock had finally chimed its last. Only a small handful were one hundred percent elvish now and those remaining few would likely seek comfort on those already past into the West.

Legolas was sure even in the flaming heat of Mount Doom if he was still a complete elf he would have been able to hear the call of the Sea. Only once had he heard it, and then he chose to ignore it. He had to pulled away by his friends not to follow the crying gull as it headed towards the ocean. His heart followed it all the same, sadly never again would it yearn to follow the same path again. Lady Galadriel had sent him a warning but not until it was nearly too late did he understand her message: _"Beware of the Sea! If thou hearst the cry of the gull on the shore thy heart then rest on the forest no more." _ He had his chance and he refused it trusting in the words of his friends that is time was yet to come. He could still remember Pippin's voice after he had explained to the hobbit of their journey through Pelargir: _"You must not go to the Heavens, Legolas. There will always be some folk, big or little, and even a few wise dwarves like Gimli, who need you."_

Hobbits were very simply creatures, but were bold, bright and cheerful. There hearts were always in the right place and somehow they always found the correct words at their most needed moments.

Even as he lay inches from death he could see the once smiling face of Frodo Baggins laughing with Samwise, Merry and Pippin as they bashfully talked of their homeland and he chuckled out loud at them as the rolled about the grass after very small friendly insults to one another. He could see the green leaves of his homeland rustle in a gentle wind; he could hear the trickling running of water and feel cool air upon his face as he closed his eyes embracing the peacefulness of death after his long years.

Beside his slim frame Sam lay between Legolas and Aragorn each of them were slipping away. Aragorn's breathing became laboured as the heat scorched his throat and he chocked upon the thick ash and fumes. Sweat rolled in great droplets down his brow and his eyelids fluttered.

"Aragorn" Sam prodded him trying to keep him motivated praying salvation would come. But the man did not move. Again Sam prodded him and Aragorn' eyes fluttered and opened a fraction, his eyes watery and unable to see.

"Sam" his voice crocked just above a whisper. "Tired…" Aragorn muttered his lips moving but no more sound came out.

Sam shook him as roughly as he could. "Stay awake, Strider" he cried, "Someone will come for us, just stay awake"

Aragorn's eyelids fluttered and dropped. His weight suddenly became dead heavily in Sam's arms. Unable to hold him Aragorn slipped through his hands lying unmoving by Sam's side.

Tears slide down his checks as Sam looked down to his dying comrades with pity and sadness.

Nothing moved, no sound broke the air. Nothing was coming to save them.

With chocking sobs Sam lay down beside them and waited to die.

* * *

They felt no sweet cooling breeze as the great wings of the Eagles fanned the air above them, nor did they feel any pain or exhilaration as they picked their limp forms in they talons and soared through the sky.

* * *

A dull sun shone through the breaking clouds over the armies of the West. The men turned to her presence in awe – Sauron's strength was strong though he had no physical form.

There was a sudden pounding of hooves upon the wet earth. The riders of Rohan turned their heads at the sound of their horses return and the elves turned to great them. Over the brow of the hill they galloped lead by a great, proud, grey with no saddle or rein and his eyes sparkling.

Shadowfax had returned.

He lead the horses towards the company, the once nervous behaviour had left the horses of Rohan as they haltered as if they had never left in shear panic.

The Lord of Horses had given them new courage and strength.

Shadowfax nuzzled Gandalf upon the shoulder and blew warm air over the wizards' dirty robes. Gandalf raised a wrinkled hand to rub the great horses' face affectionately but the horse pulled away and stomped his hooves. Gandalf frowned at Shadowfax' behaviour as he suddenly turned his back upon his master and raced around the camp in a frenzy. The other horses responded neighing loudly and joining in the charge.

The men of Rohan started to call their names and even the elves called to them, but the horses continued to charge around the group splattering the company in mud and water. Shadowfax reared before his master neighing loudly, flicking his long grey tail. Still no one could silence them or control them.

From his silent position Erbschaft had been watching them gallop around the circle; Shadowfax in particular had been displaying strange behaviour. He watched him tear around nipping the other horses before circling back towards his master.

With his arms still wrapped around the limp body of his wife he called: "He wishes you to ride him Mirthrandir." Heads flickered towards him, and then back to Gandalf. "The Lord of Horses knows something we do not. Trust in him like you always have"

Shadowfax had come to a halt beside Gandalf and snorted impatiently. The wizard placed a hand upon his back and turned to Faramir and Éomer: "Lead the company to Minas Tirith. There we will meet again" he said not knowing where his horse would take him. Would the horse take him back into Mordor to recover Aragorn, Legolas and Sam? Or only the ones that still lived? Or perhaps the horse, as Erbschaft said knew of something else. Something else of dire urgency that needed him and only him.

No matter where he may end the wizard put his trust in his horse and they leapt away in a flurry of mud westwards, the beating of his hooves steady and quick.

Above the company passing under the pale sun three Eagles flew over head, the light playing upon their golden feathers and beneath their great bodies each carried a burden in their talons.

* * *

The sweet cool air, scent of Altheas and the gentle bustle of activity bought Aragorn out of his deep sleep. Slowly wishing he had not awoken to a world of pain and aching limbs he opened his heavy eyes and gazed around himself.

He lay in a chamber off the Houses of Healing he finally concluded and beyond the walls he could hear the healers pass swiftly between the patients.

Though his heart ached for knowledge for his close friend's warfare he heard Sam's words somehow return to him: _"Don't let go of that dream" _he heard him say,_ "If you do things will begin to slip away along with your self control"_

He had taken no heed of Sam's warnings and found his insides turned painfully, tearing himself to pieces with the Ring missing. The Ring had torn a part of him away with it, he felt strangely detached and distant with the world just beyond the wooden wall.

A wave of laughter from Hobbits lips passed through the Houses but Aragorn was not listening, nor did he notice Gandalf standing in the doorway of his chamber until the wizard touched his shoulder.

The King physically jumped under the wizard's touch his mind was too preoccupied feeling sorry for himself, brooding over the loss of the Ring which had given him strength towards the end of his quest.

Gandalf had been watching the man for several moments from the doorway before finally making his move towards him. As he watched the wearily and exhausted man's mind slowly begin to work he saw the similarities to the Ringbear's before him. His aging heart suddenly stung as he was reminded of Frodo sitting in the same position some eight years ago looking equally as lost and as if something had been stolen from him. The wizard could see the same look in Aragorn's eyes that he had had a piece of himself torn away when the Ring had been destroyed. Frodo had the Shire and mostly his friends to help him, to pull him back to his right self but they did not have the strength to do so. Aragorn's hope of recovery lay firmly in the hands of Arwen. If she could not help him, then no one could.

Once Aragorn had settled after his fright Gandalf saw the shift sudden change from weak, bewildered looking to controlled and focused. It was all an act but Gandalf was not about to say it out loud shattering what courage and strength the man was calling upon to put on a brave face.

"Mirthrandir!" Aragorn gasped, "I didn't hear you come in you made me jump!"

Gandalf chuckled lightly, "I am terribly sorry about that" he said smiling.

Instantly Aragorn's mouth fired the questions Gandalf had been expected: "Where is Sam and Legolas? And the Hobbits and –" he hurriedly asked. Gandalf held up his hands to stop the stream of questions.

"Do not worry yourself everyone is safe and accounted for" he said gently. He watched Aragorn's browns frown.

"You do not fool me White Wizard" he said with no humour or smiling eyes.

Gandalf bit his lip and sighed. "Yes you are right I cannot fool you." He said in a tired voice, "Whilst you were approached the end of your quest the remaining company came under attack by Nightmares. Somehow they could sense your near victory and so instead of playing slickly with the minds and memories of the company they were delving much deeper causing serious harm to them and those around them. The Nightmares were turning men, elves and dwarves alike insane. Mad enough to kill one another and finally themselves. A quarter of our remaining forces were killed." He sounded defeated and clearly mourned the loss of life.

Aragorn was silent and still, his mind feeling the pity and pain of loosing his brothers at arms who had lived through the worst battle of the Age only to taste the metal of a blade by a friend.

"Fortunately neither Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Faramir nor Éomer came to any harm and neither did your brothers Elladan and Elrohir" the Wizard said softly feeling that would be the next question.

Aragorn merely nodded dumbly and finding his tongue he asked about Legolas and Sam.

"They are on the road to recovery, which fortunately started swiftly for you all." Gandalf began to explain: "The Eagles flew without command back to Mordor long after they had been dismissed and rescued yourself, Sam and Legolas and bought you here. When I arrived at your sides I thought I was too late. Neither of you responded to anything I did. But finally after my heart began to fear there was nothing I could do all three of you responded strongly. From then onwards I knew you had a chance."

Again Aragorn frowned: "What did we respond to?" he asked.

"Oddly it was to a bird that had managed to trap itself inside the Houses of Healing." Gandalf smirked. "The healers that were not preoccupied with helping me were trying to catch it. Instead it made rather loud frightened calls which seemed to aggravated you all"

Aragorn laughed. "In the bleak land of Mordor the air was always still and quiet, I suppose we missed the sound of life.

"No I think it might have been when the little bird pecked your nose instead of a hand of one the healers!" Gandalf laughed.

Aragon looked hurt for an instant then laughed too.

It was the sound of Aragorn's laughter that carried through in to the rest of the Houses of Healing and against the restraining arms of the healers and their cries Merry and Pippin leapt from their beds to join the King laughing in his chamber.

Soon his chamber was filled with laughing familiar faces.

Gandalf gazed around the laughing crowd: "Now the healing begins" he said to himself.

* * *

Across the courtyard from the White Tree now stood a arrow headed white stone pillar, forever pointing sky wards. Upon its four tall four were engraved the names of the fallen in the Final Battle carefully chiselled by the hands of the Dwarves.

It was beside this memorial that Aragorn addressed the city several days later. Though after days of bed rest and time to recover he still bore the obvious signs of fatigue and his injuries.

He ran a weather-beaten hand across a string of names engraved upon the stone surface with a sad look in his eyes. Finally after several moments he turned to face the crowd before him, who had been watching him with keen eyes.

"No one of you in one hundred years time will be able to recall any of these names engraved here upon the stone if it had not been for the hands of the Dwarves" he said. "That in its self would be a crime for without the lives of those brave souls you would not be living freedom you are holding"

The crowd were silent, nobody moved not even a infant cried as they listened rapt with attention to the King's heart felt words. The people respected him above words.

"I want in century's time and to the end of the world their names to be remembered for sacrificing the ultimate price for one united goal. Their names will live on where ours will be forgotten"

Behind his shoulder the still wearily, haggard faces of his closest friends allowed Aragorn's words to float inside their minds and hearts. The Hobbits stood beside each other strangely still and silent, their once innocence had been removed after starting death in the eyes more then once. They had grown wiser then any of them could ever imagine.

"From the ash and shadow of the past washed away by the rains of change a peaceful and prosperous life will bloom. Where our neighbours both big and small alike will live in harmony and most importantly in peace" Aragorn continued, "The Time of Sauron and the Ring is finally over, and our time has begun"

The crowd broke their controlled silence and applauded Aragorn's speech politely, cheering softly before dispersing. Aragorn turned his wearily face towards his friends and gently squeezed Legolas' and Sam shoulders as the company began to file away.

"I could not have done the quest without you" he said. "Thank you for standing beside me through my darkest hours -" There was much more he wanted to say they would tell but he could not find the words to say.

Sam returned the comforting pressure upon the King's arm: "It's alright Strider" he said gently still preferring to call him by the name he had introduced himself with. "There is no need to say any more. I understand how difficult it is, I have seen Mr. Frodo go through worse then you have. I understand how you must be feeling and believe me just to see you still smiling is enough to please me."

Aragorn was slightly taken back by Sam's speech but smiled and patted him fondly again thanking him.

He straightened himself and stood in front of Legolas, words dying upon his lips. Strangely Legolas just extended his hand, smiling. Aragorn shook it and pulled Legolas into his chest and embraced him.

"Diola lle mellonamin (1)" was all he could say as he chocked back tears. "Diola lle ikotane sai (2)"

Legolas spluttered in Aragorn's tight gasp: "Lle creoso (3)"

Suddenly realising he was actually chocking his friend in his over enthusiasm Aragorn unwrapped his arms and steeped away concern upon his face.

"Oh, Legolas I'm so sorry are you alright?" he asked as Legolas slipped down onto the flagstone floor holding his ribs.

Aragorn knelt beside him, Sam too knelling but the concern upon their faces soon feel away as they realised Legolas was shaking – shaking with laughter.

"I think he's alright," Sam said, "He just can not stop laughing. I wonder what he's found so funny"

"I could not even guess" Aragorn said shaking his head as Legolas shook even harder, his mouth open and his eyes streaming.

"Maybe when he has finally finished I could ask him. But knowing him I would not find it that amusing." Aragorn continued.

"I think it might be an Elf thing" Sam muttered.

Aragorn laughed and soon Sam found himself joining in as all three of them sat about laughing for no reason, apart from the giddiness of being free at long last.

Aragorn was right – this is their time.

1 Thank you my friend

2 Thank you so much

3 Your welcome

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**Epilogue**

"We commend his body to the ground..." the priest's switched between Elvish and common for the benefit of mourners that stood around him in the autumn leaves, fluttering downwards from the dying branches in Rivendell.

Beyond him Aragorn supporting Arwen under her arm he watched with a heavy heart as the coffin was lowered into the ground. His hearted ached and his eyes itched but he knew no tears would fall. He had shed enough already.

The priest ending his speech and stepped aside, gesturing with his hand towards his vacant space. Taking a deep, steadying breath Aragorn slipped his arm away from Arwen who had been comforted by her brothers and turned to face the mourners gathered around the burial site.

"Though I grew up with the Elves here in Rivendell" Aragorn said, finding his voice strangely steady and strong, "It still took me several years to understand them, even now I am still surprised by some of them" Some of the crowd chuckled gently. "One incident I can recall clearly was when I was young lying in bed with a fever. I can remember asking Elrond why he and my foster family never became ill. Of course he told me in the simplest way he could, but I did not believe him, nor did I taken in the live span of Elves. I thought he was lying and that I could not trust him. In my fear that had consumed me I left my bed and slated the race of Elves." He continued feeling slightly uncomfortable now. "Somehow, still unknown to me now I was taken back into my sick bed and Elrond still lovingly cared for me, despite the hurt words I had said. He never took anything ill I said into heart, he was always there for me up until his death." He felt his courage returning. "He was an Elf of no grudges, always caring; and supportive, comforting, understanding and never made you feel too small against his wealth of knowledge collected over the duration of his live and from the many other life works recorded onto the masses of volumes crapped into his study" A faint smile flickered upon those faces closet to Elrond. "Though a wise voice to heed to Elrond was a warrior at heart: brave, calm, efficient and with the leadership skills to encourage anyone to follow him.

"A leader, a father, friend, healer and peacemaker whatever you choice to remember him by he will certainly and un-doubtfully he missed by all"

Lady Eówyn kissed and hugged her brother with Faramir standing close to her elbow choosing not to listen to their private conversations but looked around himself taking in the sad vacant look in the elves eyes was they past him by carrying lanterns in a steady stream out of the city.

"They are heading to the Harbour" said a voice nearby as if able to read his thoughts. Faramir turned to find Legolas watching him:

"Will you not go with them?" the Steward asked.

Legolas shook his head: "It is no longer my place though my heart longs to sail West still" he said sadly turning to watch the Elves disappear. He sighed loudly his shoulders sagging but suddenly his posture changed.

Slightly alarmed Faramir took half a step forward then saw as Legolas turned slightly Gimli beside his friend hidden by Legolas body at first. He smiled and turned away.

"Surely you are still permitted to have enjoyment, my friend?" Gimli asked softly.

Legolas' eye brows frowned ever so slightly.

Gimli cleared his throat: "I was just thinking, if you wish to of course would like to accompany me to the horizon and back" he said some what awkwardly.

Legolas smiled and knelt to the dwarf's eye line: "Of course I will follow you master dwarf as along as we stay away from mountains for a while"

Gimli laughed.

Behind the Legolas and Gimli Merry and Pippin had mounted their ponies and were calling to Sam: "Hurry up Sam otherwise we won't be back in the Shire in time fore breakfast!" Pippin called.

Sam dropped a single Lilly onto Elrond's freshly covered grave and padded over Merry and Pippin after bowing Aragorn and Arwen goodbye.

"Take care Sam" Aragorn said to him, "And thank you"

The Elves of Mirkwood parted into two parties, some joining the party towards the Harbour and the others were remaining at the King's side on the journey North setting off in the morning. Thranduil had bid his fellow Elves farewell as they left for the harbour and turned speaking gently to the remaining numbers thanking them for staying behind. Erbschaft was among the numbers staying of course only half listening to the King's words, thinking about his son back in the forest now without a mother though he knew Fyandra their family friend would do all she could to help him raise the child.

Only Gandalf remained standing alone, his brow knitted lost in thought.

Who would have thought it would have lasted this long? Eight more agonising years after he had first thought the Ring to have been destroyed the Ring lingered on. At least now it was finally over and with no way of coming back.

He thought sadly of Frodo and Elrond's life lost in the path of fate that was twisted with that of the Ring's. Bitterly he pondered how many other live could have been spared if only he had noticed the Ring's presence when Bilbo possessed it.

But sighing deeply he knew there was no way the past could be changed and he had to accept the truth no matter how painful and bitter it was.

In a gust of wind and a swish of his robes he was gone, his words he had said to Frodo seemed so long ago but they rolled off his tongue as easily as they had done before:

"All you have to decide what to do with the time that is given to you"

And now it was Aragorn that would lead the people of Middle Earth onwards.

Aragorn really was the people's Estel (Hope)

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**Review responses**

**Deana: **Nice to hear from you again! I'm glad you've liked my story so much, but perhaps you are right maybe I was a little heavy handed to the characters – but I hope you approved of the ending!

**Sielge****: **Why thank you! I'm thrilled that you find my work so enchanting I must admit I've never had someone say that about my stuff before! Thank you! Even I find new and wowing stuff everyday that's the great think about FF.net – you'll never what you will find! I hope you enjoyed reading my work and will keep an eye out from more!

**Lamiel****: **Yep that's right – I love _In the Deep Places_ though I think I have read some it before…but I still love it! Hope to hear from you again one day soon.

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